The Story Left Untold
by PiperPaigePhoebe01
Summary: Jackie Munroe has never met her father, growing up with her movie star mother, Sonny Munroe. She has always wanted to know her father, and little does she know that one trip to the attic will reveal all that has been lost in the form of a strange diary.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **Yes, I am currently obsessed with Channy right now, although I'm not positive why. I just can't wait until the second season!

**Summary: **Jackie Monroe has never met her father, growing up with her movie star mother, Sonny Munroe. She has always wanted to know her father, and little does she know that one trip to the attic will reveal all that has been lost in the form of a mysterious diary.

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**The Story Left Untold**_  
by PiperPaigePhoebe01_

Chapter One

I have never known my father.

If I didn't know better, I would have said that I didn't even _have _a father, but every little girl has a father. Although my mother never talked to me about him—never even allowed me to see a picture of him—I knew certain details about the man that I had pieced together from the few sentences Aunt Tawni and Uncle Nico had told me. I used those details to form a picture of him in my mind, and I embraced that image above all else. That shadowy figure of my past—_ma père_, as the French say—was the most precious figure of my childhood, even above my own mother.

These are the only facts I had gathered about him:

He had been my mother's age when they met.

They had met during my mother's first year at the comedy show, _So Random_, and my mother had hated him practically on first sight.

Yet they had fallen in love.

At this point, I had always grown enamored by the story.

"How did they fall in love?" I asked. "Where did they met exactly? Why did she hate him?"

"That's a story for another time," Tawni said, patting my shoulder and then linking her arm through mine. "Now, let's go to Bergdorf's. You need a new dress for Portlyn's ball tonight."

I sighed whenever Tawni said this, and excused myself to go talk to Uncle Nico. He was always open to my questions, ready to ruffle my long dark hair and tease me about the latest events going on in my life. He wanted to make me happy, and I knew he would give me whatever I wanted.

So I asked him.

"Who is my father?"

He said the normal stuff: your mother met him years ago, they hated each other, blah, blah, blah. Whenever I held my breath, then let it out in a question—_no, I meant: what is his name?—_he looked as if he wanted to tell me, but then he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but if you want to hear more about your father, you're gonna have to ask your mother, squirt," Nico said, ruffling my hair. "Now, go on. Aunt Tawni wants to take you shopping, and you know that you don't want to keep her waiting."

I didn't have a choice. I was forced to wander through the rows of clothes in Bergdorf's, Bendel's, all of the most fashionable stores on Manhattan's upper east side. Tawni pressed numerous dresses into my arms as I walked behind her, listening halfheartedly as she prattled on and on about the latest fashions, and how the people at Pendell Prep would be so shocked when I walked into the ballroom that night.

All I thought about was my father and my mother.

What was so mysterious? Why wouldn't my mother even talk about my father? Why couldn't I even find a snippet about the actor that had met my mother that one day? I had entered my mother's television show into the Google search engine, but nothing came up about the man my mother had been involved in when she was just a little older than I was now. Why? Why didn't I know who he was?

In every other aspect of my life, my mother was not secretive. Instead, she acted like my best friend most of the time—or at least those times when I was good and did what I was told. She told me everything, about her latest movie, about her move to Manhattan after she had gotten picked up to play the lead in the major hit of the year 2010, _Just Like Her_, and how she had enrolled me in Pendell's because she wanted me to have that perfectly glamorous life that she had never had but always wanted.

She was my best friend.

And yet she didn't tell me about my father.

The question of who he was haunted me for weeks, past the ball Portlyn threw together, past my first day as a sophomore at Pendell's, past the homecoming dance, and past the premiere of my mother's newest movie. I couldn't get him out of my mind.

I imagined him as a handsome man, full of life. He had my piercing blue eyes, the gentle slope of my mouth, the way my hair almost shimmered with blonde highlights in the sun. He had my laugh, which bubbled out of me and almost seemed condescending—almost. He had that way about him, that confidence that made me walk with a strut in my Christian Louboutin heels.

The image wavered and disappeared as my mother stood in my doorway a month after Portlyn's ball, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I heard about the party," my mother said shortly.

I looked up from my laptop to stare at my mother. I crossed my arms over my own chest and felt the presence of my father grow stronger—because, without him, I would have looked exactly like my mother in this moment, eyebrow quirked upward, arms crossed in the same way, as we faced off against each other for what had to be the millionth time.

"So?" I asked, leaning back in my chair. "What does it matter?"

"It matters because you were supposed to spend last night rearranging the attic," my mother said. "You offered to do that for your chore, remember?"

"I remember."

My mother waited for me to say something else, but when I turned back to my laptop with a sigh, she spoke up. "Then why didn't you do it?"

"I wanted to go to the party instead," I said. I swiveled my chair around. "Face it, Mom. Who would rather clean a dirty, dingy attic when they could go to the biggest party of the year instead? March Banks put it together. She's the Queen Bee, Mom, and anyone who even wants to be someone had to go."

"So you'd rather disobey your mother," she said.

"You didn't say I _had _to clean the attic last night," I said. "You only suggested it."

"Well, now I'm only _suggesting _that you march you and your smart comments up to the attic and start cleaning," my mother said, her eyes hardening. "I'm only _suggesting _that if you don't, you won't be able to go to March Bank's party next week _or _my latest movie premiere. You understand?"

"_Mom._"

"I said: Do you understand?"

I sighed. There was no use arguing with my mother now. There was no way she was going to allow me to get my way. She might be my best friend most of the time, but when I did something that she did not approve of, she was practically my worst enemy.

That didn't mean, of course, that I couldn't be a smartass.

"Yes, _Mother_." I stood up. "If you insist, then I _will _clean the attic. Out of the goodness of my heart."

My mom ignored my tone of voice.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said sarcastically as soon as her back was turned. She paused mid-step, then continued at her normal pace.

I sighed. Even though I really didn't want to clean the attic—it was crowded and musty in there, full of my mom's old Wisconsin stuff that I _really _didn't feel like shifting through—I knew that I had no choice. My mother would make me if I didn't go up and do it sort of out of my own free will today. She had offered to do it, but I had, in a fit of kindness, said I would do it a week ago, and I couldn't exactly go back on my promise now.

So I grabbed my hoodie from the back of my chair and headed to the attic that always seemed to be ten degrees chillier than the rest of the house. The stairs creaked uncomfortably as I made my way up there, and as I clambered onto the dusty wooden floor, I sneezed.

This was going to be a _blast._

I sighed as I made my way to the far corner of the room. There was no doubting it: I was the only girl at Pendell's that actually had chores, and they were the worst form of torture ever devised.

* * *

**1 TEXT MESSAGE from Lilian Edwards.**

I hesitated, looking around at the boxes spread out before me. Lilian Edwards was such a texting fiend; if I got into a flurry with her, I would only surface twenty minutes later—and that was on a day when she was a little tired. If she had just gotten up—which was completely possible—she could go for hours.

I had already been cleaning the attic for about two hours so far. Some progress had been made with the far corner, which now gleamed pristinely, the boxes stacked neatly. I decided that I could do with a break, and besides, I hadn't talked to Lilian for a while.

**Hey, just got out of bed. What's goin' on? **I read.

**Nothing. Mom making me clean attic.**

**Ugh. And u r doin it?**

**Don't have a choice.**

**Well, r u comin to the party 2night?**

**Where?**

I flipped my phone shut before Lilian could respond, putting it beside me on the floor. I sat down cross-legged, pulling the nearest box close to me. _Wisconsin 1997-1999_, it said in my mother's messy handwriting from when she was a teenager. The box practically fell apart as I opened it, revealing some of my mother's old books, a few pictures of her arm around Lulu, her best friend, and a newspaper from the time she won the singing competition in school.

Even then, she was successful—smart and bright, her brown hair tied back in a ponytail, her bucktoothed smile bright and cheerful against the backdrop of the golden stage.

My phone pinged.

**John's place. 9 o'clock. Be there or else.**

I frowned. **Is it really important?**

**Yes. Even bigger than March's party.**

Was such a thing even possible? My frown deepened as I remembered my mother's face when she found out I had gone to a party. I didn't even want to think about what she would say if she found out that there had been alcohol there—not that I drank any, of course—but if she found out I was going to John Alto's place, the self-proclaimed manwhore of the school, she would never let me go.

Maybe I would have to turn this down.

**Great. IDK if I can go.**

I threw my phone down beside me. Standing up, I dragged the box over to the others, stacking it neatly beside the box for 1996. Then I sat down beside my phone, dragging the next box to me. This was from 2000, and I could see our resemblance growing more pronounced. I was just turning through a series of photographs from second grade when Lilian responded.

**But you have to go. Anyone who's anyone is going.**

**Sorry. Mom issues.**

My mother would never let me go, and I knew that there was no way I would disobey her. I would just have to grin and bear it, and maybe my social life wouldn't be completely shot to hell and I'd manage to salvage it somehow in the now less than three years I had left of school.

The other box went on top of the previous, and the routine continued. I ignored the beeping from my phone, as I really did not want to hear about how Lilian thought I was a chicken for not going against my mother. I didn't want to hear about her musings about when I was finally going to start to live a little, take some risks, because I was not in the mood.

When I reached for the box that was supposed to say 2009, I let my mouth fall open in a gasp at the words I read. Instead of my mother's handwriting spelling out 2009 in crisp, neat letters, I read _Chad Dylan Cooper_ written sloppily in cursive. A little heart had been written beside the name, then hurriedly crossed out. Below it, the words _Do not open, under ANY circumstances _were written in dark marker, then underlined boldly. Stars were placed around the entire statement, and a huge black circle surrounded the whole mass.

I kept my hands on the top of the box for what felt like an eternity.

Chad Dylan Cooper.

That name.

It seemed familiar, like I had seen it once before, but where? I couldn't remember. All I knew was that I wanted to know more about him, and why he merited the warning written across his box. Why had my mother packed all his things away? She had pushed him into a box, shoved him out of her mind and into the dusty old attic, placing him among all her childhood memories like too many old singing trophies, and I had never even heard her speak of him.

Could it be—?

I didn't let myself get my hopes up. Instead, I pulled the box closer to me. My hands lingered over the flaps for a moment before I gathered my courage, shoved all my hopes into the back of my mind, and swiftly opened the mysterious box.

At the top, I saw two cases of DVDs. One was for the fifth season of my mom's show, _So Random_, and the other was for the fifth season of _Mackenzie Falls. _As I stared into the face of the man on the front of the latter case, I felt my heart skip a beat.

It was almost as though I was looking into a mirror.

I saw, reflected from that case, my own eyes with that deep shade of blue. His mouth curved into a smirk in the same way that my own did when I was angry or upset. His arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed, matching my own natural stance. His hair was sleek and glossy, just like my own, and I could see the same blond highlights in his hair that were in my own whenever I walked into the sun.

The hope returned in full force.

Was it possible? Did I really find my father?

I set the two cases beside me carefully, staring at Chad Dylan Cooper's face a moment longer than necessary. I turned back to the box, pulling out a smaller shoebox. Deciding I would open that one later, I put that beside the DVDs, then reached in again. This time, my fingers hit something leathery that seemed to be clasped tightly. I pulled it out, setting it in my lap carefully.

My breath hitched in my throat as I read the gilt letters.

_Sonny Munroe._

_2009 – 2010._

I never knew my mother kept a diary.

This was it.

I had found the _crème de la crème_, as the French say. (French was really beginning to grow on me.) For the first time, I held in my hands my mother's words, written as she had felt them in the year 2009, when she had first joined _So Random._

2009 was also the year she met the man who would later become my father.

Maybe there wasn't a coincidence between my mother meeting my father and Chad Dylan Cooper in the same year. Maybe there was a reason her journal from her year at _So Random _was tucked into the box with his name on it.

Maybe—maybe I would just have to read and find out.

My fingers fumbled against the clasp holding the diary shut. It took me what felt like ages to get the damn thing open, but once I did, my eyes skimmed across the opening page.

_This journal is the property of Sonny Munroe._

_If found, please return to Sonny at Studio 3, dressing room first on the left._

_Please do not go beyond this page and return immediately._

I ignored the warning and turned the page.

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**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review? Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Wow, I'm shocked at how many people reviewed that first chapter! Huge thanks go to the following people who reviewed: **Cool Rocker13**, **DannySamLover20**, **ilovesonnywithachancebcn**, **luckyme123**, **leoshunny1985**, **gloria** (anon), **eromdae451QI**, **Sonny days**, **ranimohd91**, **sonnyandchadstories**, **-FriendOfTheFallen-x**, **xxHeadInTheStarsxx**, **lolz3** (anon), **Tokiooo**, **hannahpie45**, **Imanillusion**, **Maiqu**, **Konnichiwa Minna **(thanks for pointing out the whole Lucy thing, by the way!), **Waiting For Him**, **.Chad.**, and **holly **(anon)!

Hopefully you will all continue to enjoy this story. I'm really looking forward to seeing it develop as I write more of it. Also, just for convenience's sake, let's say that Sonny joined the _So Random _cast in January of 2009, when the show actually aired in real life.

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Chapter Two

_January 30, 2009_

_My mother seems to think that this journal will be a good idea. Apparently, coming to Hollywood is not the smartest move in the world. Although she's supportive of me and my choices, she thinks that I'd somehow be a better person if I stayed in Wisconsin. She's heard all about the drama and the drugs and the sex, so I can see where she's coming from, but really. I'm going to be a star on a comedy show for tweens. How much debauchery can I possibly get into?_

_She thinks that this journal will stop me from getting into trouble. If I can just keep my mind sharp, then maybe I won't succumb to the fame. _

_She might be right. I mean, I don't mind writing in this thing, and it's not as if anyone's going to come across it. My mother just likes to see me writing in it, and if I were honest with myself, I don't really mind writing in it either. It's a relaxing way to spend the day after rehearsing with the drama queen extraordinaire, Tawni Hart. And it feels especially relaxing to write in it today, after I met the resident jerkthrob of the studio._

_Chad Dylan Cooper._

_Ugh, he drives me CRAZY. I don't know why he's so popular, him and his stupid little drama and his stupid little friends and his stupid hair and his arrogance. At first maybe I was a little starstruck by him, but then he just showed his true colors. And he's a jerk. Completely self-centered, doesn't care about anyone else, plays with my emotions like they mean nothing to him._

_Take that peace picnic thing, for example. I had TRIED to use that to bridge the gap and get our two shows to cooperate. But then he and his cast had to ruin it all by gluing us to our seats, rigging our table so it would fall down, causing egg salad to fall into my lap (over and over and over again), and then stealing our toilet paper holder. Not to mention filming it and sending it to the hottest gossip site on the web, so that people could watch a GIF of me being showered with egg salad on repeat._

I stopped reading, unable to stop myself from giggling. My father had sprayed my mother with egg salad. My mother had actually wrote the words "peace picnic" without putting a little winking face next to it. She had actually used the word _jerkthrob._

My mother was _such _a geek.

And if my hunch was right (and there was no way it couldn't be right, no way Chad Dylan Cooper couldn't be my father), then my father was pretty hot shit around Hollywood for a while there. Which was _odd_, considering that there had been no gossip about my mother and my father, or at least none that I had ever come across—and I had searched Perez Hilton's old blog for _hours _when I was thirteen.

I continued reading, curiosity overwhelming the worry that my mother might come into the attic and find me reading her old diary.

_I don't know what everyone sees in him. He's just a cocky actor, and in Hollywood, you can find those at a dime a dozen._

_I'm actually going to go talk to him tomorrow and see if there's any way that there can still be some peace between us. If I don't, then Tawni, Nico, Grady and Zora will probably never speak to me again. I told them that I would be able to make peace and get our toilet paper holder back, and if I don't—well. It would probably be best if I found another dressing room._

_And possibly another show._

_But I'm Sonny Munroe. I once arranged such a successful peace picnic that my school would never think of baiting our rival school, and same for our rivals._

_I can make peace between So Random and Mackenzie Falls._

_I know I can._

_See ya,_

_Sonny._

I kept my fingers curled around the corner of the page. Should I read another entry? I know that I wanted to hear how Sonny's confrontation with Chad went, and I wanted to know more about Chad Dylan Cooper, but I still had so much of the attic left to clean.

I hesitated for a moment, and then a moment longer. Then I flicked deftly through the pages, swearing to myself that I would only skim to see how many entries there were. I would not read ahead, because I knew that reading ahead would ruin the surprise. If I started at the beginning, I would conclude the story at the end. Just as it was meant to be. It would feel wrong any other way.

I lifted the diary, flipping through the pages like I would a book I was thinking about reading. As I did, a small photograph fluttered down from the pages, alighting softly on the wooden floor. It landed face-down, messy cursive sprawling across the middle of the photo. I picked it up and read my mother's handwriting.

_Sonny and Chad, summer of '09._

I flipped the photo over. Immediately, my heart clenched tight inside my chest, almost strangling in its intensity. My eyes were glued to the photo before me, the way my mother's eyes glittered with joy as she stared up at Chad, and the way my father's hands were wrapped around her waist. Her blue dress glittered in the bright lights, and his suit was the perfect backdrop against her brightness.

If anything was the picture of love, it was them. Although they were probably backstage at some famous award show or something, they looked like they were the only two people in the world, tied up in each other. My mom's face was turned up toward my father's, and he had ducked his head a little, about to meet her lips.

As suddenly as the joy had overwhelmed me, a sudden sadness crippled me.

What had happened? If my mother and father had hated each other as much as they did, how could they have gotten to that point forever immortalized in a photo? And how could they have gone from that point to _this_, where I was being raised by a single mother and my father was nowhere to be found?

I wiped at my eyes angrily and tucked the photograph back into the pages of the diary. I turned back to the very first entry in the small gilt journal, fingers gently outlining the messy scrawl of my mother's handwriting as she scribbled _Chad Dylan Cooper._

"Jackie!"

_Oh my God._

I could hear my mother's footsteps behind me on the stairs. I couldn't let her see this, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. I knew that she couldn't know that I found this box, let alone the fact that I had opened it. So I scrambled to pack everything away into the box, fingers fumbling on the edges.

"Come on, damn it, close," I said under my breath, sweat breaking out across my forehead as I folded the last flaps into place above the DVD cases. The box went beside the others, name facing the wall. If my mother looked, she wouldn't know I had seen the box.

Just in time, I managed to throw myself against a wall and grab my phone. I had just flipped to Lilian's first text out of about a hundred when my mother appeared at the top of the stairs. My eyes flicked to hers, then back to my phone.

_God, I hope that was nonchalant._

"Jackie, I thought you said you were going to clean the attic," my mother said. "You don't look like you're doing much of anything."

"Sorry," I said cheerfully. "Just taking a break."

"By getting into a texting flurry?"

"Um, yeah," I said. To give myself an alibi, I quickly read through Lilian's frantic text. "Lilian says that there's another party tonight, and I should go. If I don't go, she'll never be able to speak to me again."

"Who's throwing it?"

I paused for a moment. "John Alto."

"Well, then, you'd better find a new best friend, because you're not going to that party," my mother said. "John Alto can't be trusted. I ran into his mother at Barney's the other day, and she told me about John's latest suspension. Did you know he got suspended for smoking hash at school?"

"Yes, Mom," I said and sighed. "Everyone knew that weeks ago. When it first happened." I flipped my phone shut and slid it into my pocket. I grabbed another box, titled _2011_, and pulled it toward me. "Anyway, I didn't really want to go to the party anyway."

"Why?" my mother asked.

I shrugged. "Because I know his reputation?"

"I have a feeling that's not really the reason you don't want to go," my mother said, walking into the room and sitting beside me. "But I don't really care, as long as you're not going." She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but she just grabbed a box of her own. "You've been up here for about three hours now, so I decided to come up and help you."

"Thanks."

My mother nodded without saying a word. For a while, this silence continued, as I silently stacked the boxes together in the corner of the room, but then my mother gasped loudly. I dropped the box on the stack and turned to look at her.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She looked like a ghost, her normally pale skin even paler. Her eyes were trained on the box in front of her. She didn't seem to have heard me.

"Mom."

My mom blinked. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"What?" she asked again. "I mean, yes, of course. I just—saw something interesting. That's all." She smiled, maybe a little too brightly. "I'm good. Perfect." She closed the box's flaps and carried it over to where I was standing. "Now. I think that's enough cleaning for a while."

"But—"

"But nothing." Her smile wavered. "I thought you'd want to stop cleaning."

"I do. It's just that you seem a little... off."

"I'm fine."

Nothing I could say would deter my mom from getting us out of the attic. As she ushered me down the steps in front of her, I fiddled with the string hanging from my red sweatpants. What had my mother seen that made her look so frightened? Why did she want us out of the attic so quickly?

There was only one reason I could think of, and I waited until we had both taken seats in front of the coffee table before asking her about it.

"Mom, I have a question," I said, hands clasped around a cup of hot chocolate my mother had whipped up for me before we had settled in.

My mother smiled over her own cup of tea. She took a sip of the peppermint liquid. "What's up, hon?"

"You might not want to answer it," I mumbled.

"You know I tell you everything," my mother said. "Whatever you want to ask, just ask it. I promise that I won't bite—much."

I bit my lip, chewing on it nervously. I stared down into my hot cocoa, watching the marshmallows slowly melt and spread across the top of my cup. I played with the spoon, stirring the concoction together. The steam rose in swirls, dispersing in the chilly air. My free hand went inside my hoodie pocket. Five minutes passed this way, and my mother did not push. She just let me be silent, knowing that I'd eventually say what I needed to say; she just needed to give me time.

Sure enough, five minutes later, I opened my mouth.

"Okay." I took another deep breath. "Okay. Before I ask, promise me you'll tell the truth."

"I promise."

Another deep breath, then it came out.

"Mom, who's my father?"

_Crash._

My mother's cup fell from her suddenly slack hands. The dark liquid spread across the white carpet, the broken shards of the glass cluttering the floor. My eyes were glued to my mom's, and hers in turn were focused on the floor, as though the mess was utterly intriguing to her.

"Mom. _Mom._"

Her eyes focused on mine. "Darling, I—"

"You said that you'd tell the truth."

My mother nodded. "Yes, I did say that."

She didn't say anything else, instead choosing to kneel beside her chair. She gathered together the broken pieces of teacup, placing them on the coffee table in a neat pile. Her method of avoidance was quite perfect, I reflected, as I watched her scour the pale carpet for any spare traces of glass. She wet her handkerchief to see if she could blot out the stain, but no luck.

She sighed.

"Looks like that'll need to be replaced," she said, taking her seat once more. She sighed. "I'm just so clumsy, Jackie."

"Mom, tell me the truth."

My commanding tone made her meet my eyes. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"Who your father is," my mother whispered.

A tennis ball settled in my gut. Why was my mother deliberately lying to me? Why wouldn't she just tell me the damn truth?

"Is it Chad Dylan Cooper?"

"Go to your room, Jackie."

I blinked at the sudden non sequitur. "What?"

"I said go to your room, Jackie," I said. "And please don't come out until I tell you to."

"Why?"

"Don't argue with me." She stood up and pointed to the stairs leading to the second floor. "Now, march."

I obeyed my mother's orders, dragging my feet up the first flight of stars. I stopped on the landing, staring down at my mother, who had her head in her hands, her body hunched up in a ball. Then I turned around and practically ran down the halls and up one more flight of stairs, up to the attic. I burst into the dusty room, heading straight for the box my mother had been looking at.

Inside the box, I saw the scrapbook for my mother's year at _So Random_, which featured Nico, Grady, Tawni and Zora. My mom was in some of the pictures, but not all of them. As I sat down, back against the wall, and flicked through the book, I knew immediately what had elicited such a strong reaction from my mother.

About midway through the book, there was an empty space where a picture should have been located, with the following inscription:

_Guess Who's Coming to Guest Star!_

_Episode 5x19 of So Random._

_Hot EMT sketch._

_Guest star:_

A long name was scribbled out, but I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know whose name it was, or who had removed the picture.

I closed the book and tucked it under my arm, then picked up the box proclaiming _Chad Dylan Cooper. _Though I stooped under the weight—the whole box had to be at least twenty or thirty pounds, if not more than that—I had to get it down to my room. I managed, just barely, to get it there, setting it down on the floor beside my bed with a sigh.

My mother very rarely went into the attic, so hopefully she would not miss it. Even if she did, I didn't particularly care. If she wouldn't tell me the truth, I would figure it out on my own. I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school, and I deserved to know who my father was.

I plopped down on my bed, reaching over to my desk to grab my laptop. When I got Google search engine up, finally, I typed in three words.

_Chad Dylan Cooper._

Immediately, millions of results showed up. I scanned the news area first; the first headline immediately caught my attention.

**FAMOUS HAS-BEEN CHAD DYLAN COOPER MISSING FIFTEEN YEARS TODAY.**

Fifteen years.

He had been missing fifteen years.

The cursor hovered over the hyperlink. Even though my finger was poised over the left button on my touchpad, ready to click on the link, I hesitated. If I followed this lead, I might figure out who my father was, and what his relationship looked like to other people.

Did I dare?

Yes, I thought I did.

I clicked on the link, then closed my eyes before I could see the screen change. Maybe I dared to click on the button, but maybe I wasn't ready to open the can of worms all the way.

Of course, it was too late to close it now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm super excited about this story. I am looking forward to slowly unfurling this mystery. Rest assured, this story will definitely keep you on your toes. Your reviews really inspired me to update within a day, so please, review and tell me what you thought? Maybe we could get to forty reviews? Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Well, it certainly looks like I'm keeping your interest! Thanks so much to everyone who favorited and/or alerted this story and to the following people who left me so many kind reviews: **Kerropiyvonne**, **lolz3** (anon), **Cool Rocker13**, **luckme123** (anon), **leoshunny1985**, **StemiFan**, **ilovesonnywithachancebcn**, **love-cdc**, **eromdaer451QI**, **agent-mazda**, **Sonny days**, **ranimohd91**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **kaylinwriter14**, **Tokiooo**, **FlyingOnSilentWings**, **.Chad.**, **SWACFREAK29 **(anon), , **Waiting For Him**, **animeaddict2323232**, and **Maiqu**! Words cannot express how glad I am that you guys are enjoying the story so much.

* * *

Chapter Three

**FAMOUS HAS-BEEN CHAD DYLAN COOPER MISSING FIFTEEN YEARS TODAY.**

The headline blared at me from my computer screen as soon as I opened my eyes. It suddenly seemed foreign, like I knew what the words were, I knew what the sentence said, but I couldn't make sense of it in my own mind. The only thing I could do to try and understand what had happened was to start reading, right from the very beginning.

_Many people remember the iconic image of Chad Dylan Cooper in his most memorable role, Mackenzie, on the hit TV series, **Mackenzie Falls**. He was known for his rather arrogant attitude, an overindulgence when it came to hair products and, of course, his inclination for calling himself "the greatest actor of our generation." If you asked someone who had been a preteen fifteen years ago the name of their role model when they were young, most young boys—and even some girls—would say Chad Dylan Cooper, without any doubt. _

"_He was such a promising boy," Mr. Condor of the famous Condor Studios said. "Full of life and passion, he might've been a little arrogant at times, but that only lent his talents admirably to the role of playing Mackenzie on our most famous television show."_

"_I remember working with him once or twice," the director of the rival tween show, **So Random**, said. "He once did a sketch with our very own Sonny Munroe. I wanted him to do more roles, but he turned us down. Apparently he wanted to pay more attention to his own show. But he was a nice guy."_

_Perhaps the very person that Marshall spoke of, Sonny Munroe, had a hand in Chad's disappearance. No one knows for sure; fifteen years later, and we have no evidence as to whether there was even a relationship between them. All we know is that in the summer of 2010, just a few months after Sonny disappeared from the public eye for about two months, Chad managed to go missing as well. For a while, we thought that they were together, but then Sonny returned, an infant in tow, and steadfastly refused to answer any questions._

"_There was nothing going on between them," Zora Lancaster, Sonny's youngest costar on **So Random**, said when we confronted her about it a few weeks past. "There might've been a rivalry, but that was it. And we all had a rivalry with Chad Dylan Cooper."_

_And the baby?_

_No clues as to that either. Sonny insisted that she had gotten pregnant when she had disappeared from the public eye, shortly after Just Like Her_ _(2010) hit theaters._

_Regardless, the mystery of where Chad Dylan Cooper is right now still remains to be solved. Sonny Munroe refuses to answer any questions. Her two best friends, Tawni and Nico Harris, also refuse to answer questions. It could be that Sonny has nothing to do with Chad's disappearance. It is simply too late to tell, just as it was much too early to tell years ago._

_All we can do is mourn the loss of such a beloved talent, and hope that eventually, somehow, he will turn up again._

"_We all care for you," former costar Chloe Vaughn said, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. "Please come back, if you see this."_

_All of us here in Hollywood return that sentiment._

Tears managed to obscure my vision as I reached the end of the article. I wiped them away angrily. Why was I crying over a man I had never met, a man I probably would never meet, considering his disappearance over fifteen years ago? I hardly knew him, had only seen three photos of him, counting the one on every _Mackenzie Falls _poster, and him being my father—it was nearly a certainty, but I still did not know him. So why were the tears streaming down my face?

I closed my eyes, trying to will the tears away. After what felt like hours, the tears finally dried and I managed to focus my eyes on the screen again. Barely looking at the article, I closed the browser and turned my computer off, waiting for the screen to go dark before placing it back on my desk.

I burrowed my way under my blankets, curling up in a ball. Blindly I reached down next to my desk, digging into the box until I hit the gilt diary. I pulled the photo out from the edges of the pages, putting it beside me on my bed.

We had the same nose. Our eyes were the same, and the gentle curve of our lips. I had my mother's cheekbones, her facial structure, but Chad and I shared the same remarkable blue eyes. And our hair glinted in the light in the same way.

They looked so happy. _So _happy. Over-the-moon happy, stars-in-their-eyes in love with each other. The love they had was so obvious, jumping off the photograph and hitting me square in the eyes. His blond hair contrasted with her dark hair, making them seem like the perfect contrast. His hands curled tightly around her tiny waist, and their smiles matched each other perfectly.

How had they gone from that level of love to... nothing, all in the span of about a year? And what about that next piece, my mother and father both disappearing within months of each other? And my mother reappearing with me in tow, with Chad nowhere to be found?

It all made no sense.

* * *

I woke up, blurry-eyed, to the sound of my phone beeping crazily beside me. Groaning, I reached for it, flipping it open.

**20 TEXT MESSAGES from Lilian Edwards.**

I couldn't help laughing. To be honest, I had expected more than one hundred and twenty text messages, knowing Lilian. She was probably going crazy, knowing that I wasn't going to John's party and she would be facing pure social suicide if she ever deigned speak to me again.

My laugh got caught off abruptly as I let in a sharp breath.

**1 TEXT MESSAGE from John Alto.**

"What the hell?" I murmured, immediately pressing OK to read the message.

**hey just wndrin if u r comin to my party 2night would luv to c u there.**

I rolled my eyes. He probably said that about every single girl he came across at Pendell's. He wasn't called the self-proclaimed manwhore of the school for nothing.

**Sorry. I can't go. **

Short, sweet, and to the point. I hit send, then went to the most recent text of Lilian's.

**You're worrying me, Jackie. Where are you, and why aren't you responding? You HAVE to come to the party tonight!**

Again, predictable.

I sent off a quick **I told you, I was cleaning the attic, and I'm busy, can't go**, then went through and deleted all of her other text messages, which were all a variation of the same thing. If Lilian wanted something, she would stop at nothing to get it. I wouldn't be surprised if she started throwing pebbles at my window, a couture dress in her hands, a bag with shoes and accessories in it slung over her arm. She was just the type to do that, just the type to force me to go to the stupid party.

My phone pinged.

It was John.

**r u serious r u really sayin no 2 me?**

_Arrogant ass._

**Yes, I'm really saying no to you. I'd rather do that than get my mother angry with me. You know who she is, right?**

I slowly sat up after sending the message. The bright sunlight streamed in through my window, making me blink several times. Then my eyes fell on the picture, lying beside me on the bed. My parents greeted me, cheerful and joyous. I reached over and turned it down, leaving the inscription facing up.

_Sonny and Chad._

Their names fit perfectly together, just like everything else. Sonny and Chad, Sonny Munroe and Chad Dylan Cooper, Allison Munroe and Chad Dylan Cooper—Allison Cooper. A smile played at the corners of my lips at the thought, then disappeared.

Because of course there was no such person named Allison Cooper. My parents had never been married. They hadn't even been together for more than two years.

I shook myself out of those thoughts.

Honest to God, why was I being so melodramatic? I still had my mother. Sure, I knew about my father. I knew that eventually I'd find out more information about him and what he was like. It was just bound to happen, whether it was because my mother told me or Nico, Grady, or Tawni eventually snapped. It just so happened that none of those situations had occurred, and I had instead found out via my mother's very secret and very private diary.

_Ping._

"Ugh," I breathed as I saw that, once again, John Alto was showing his complete and utter lack of intelligence by deliberately baiting me. Yet I couldn't help opening the text message, and then proceeding to get into a flurry with him.

**shes sonny munroe every1 nos her. but my dad is famous, u dont want 2 say no 2 me.**

**I don't have a choice.**

**yea u do no1 rejects john alto**

**Arrogant much?**

**its true**

**You really should get checked into a psych ward for your big head. Otherwise it might explode.**

**ha v. funny, now ur coming to my party.**

**Let me put this in words you might understand. jackie not cumin 2 ur party eva, sry.**

Finally, the conversation seemed to come to an end, if John's last **well see **had been the last thing he had to say on the matter.

It was certainly the last thing I had to say on the matter, because as soon as I got his message, I threw my phone across the room. It landed neatly in the hamper on the other side of my room, where my mother would probably find it later when she came up to gather my laundry together.

There was no reason why I would ever want to go to his party anyway. He was a jerk, known all around campus not only for his whoreishness (promiscuity was too big a word for even most members of the elite Pendell Prep to say in casual conversation), but for his arrogance and the self-entitlement he carried everywhere. He seemed to think that just because his father was the famous Marlon Alto from Alto Incorporated that he had a right to boss everyone around. And it certainly didn't help that the teachers pandered to his every whim, giving him the lead in the school play several times over even though he screwed the whole production up royally whenever he showed up drunk.

I couldn't count how many times he had walked into school his freshman year only to find seniors waiting to escort him to class, chattering on and on about the party that he just had to attend. I couldn't fathom how many times the football jocks had grabbed him in the hall and wrestled him playfully, or slipped a discreet bag of cocaine into his pocket when the teacher wasn't looking.

He was _heinous. _He was completely despicable, even at the relatively young age of sixteen, and even if my mother had not forbade me to go to his party, I wouldn't have even considered it.

Maybe this would be a good time to go shopping—get my mind off everything. The only problem was that my mother had banned me from leaving my room.

I sighed.

My father had only just now been revealed to me, and he was already messing up my life.

* * *

Three hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-three seconds later (not that I was counting or anything), I was released from my exile. I found it hard to believe that it was already supper time, but sure enough, when I hesitantly made my way downstairs, I found my mother seated at the dining room table, eyes calm, hair pulled back neatly in a high ponytail, steam issuing up from two plates full to the brim with food.

"Hi," I said softly, taking my customary seat next to her.

"Hello, Jackie." My mother's voice was quiet, but she seemed calm. "How was your day?"

"Boring," I said. "Yours?"

My mother's lips tightened. "Same," she said, trying to force a smile through her tight lips.

I nodded, the rest of dinner punctuated only by the sounds of our cutlery clinking against our porcelain plates and the sound of cars passing by the dining room window. I tried to eat as quickly as possible; the silence was nearly deafening, especially considering the lively conversations I often had with my mother when we convened for dinner.

Finally, I swallowed my last piece of food.

"May I be excused, please?" I asked, placing my dirty fork and knife on my empty plate.

My mother nodded. "Sure," she said. "You can be exempt from your dish-washing duties today, since you did help me clean the attic." For the first time all day, a real smile spread across her face. "And especially for not going to John Alto's party. He's bad news."

I laughed. "I know, Mom."

Once I dropped my plate and cutlery into the sink, I headed back upstairs. I decided to read one more entry in the diary before trying to get some of my homework done, and the possibility of uncovering some mystery urged me up to my bed.

The journal, in my lap five minutes later, felt heavy. I unclasped it, fingers still fumbling on the gold. It finally fell open. I flipped through the pages until I reached the second entry.

_January 31, 2009_

_I don't even know what just happened._

_Like I said yesterday, diary, I went to Mackenzie Falls to confront Chad. As I expected, he was in the middle of a scene with his costar, Portlyn. When I interrupted to talk to him, he did the typical douche move. He seemed so surprised that someone would even deign interrupting him while he was acting. He made me so angry—I felt like I could storm out right at that moment, if I didn't have to talk to him—and I have to admit that I actually snapped at Portlyn._

_I mean, really. "Portlyn, you got great legs, let's see how they move"? That's not really me. (Hey, maybe my mother actually does have a point, and Hollywood is changing me. But that's not the point. The point is Chad being completely obnoxious.)_

"_Stay sad, sweetie," he said after her when she disappeared, as usual every bit of the arrogant jerk that I was coming to view him as._

_Like everyone was there for his own amusement. It sickened me._

_And then he turned to me and dared to ask what my problem was. Well, I'll tell him what my problem is. My problem is him, all the way up to the very top of his shiny blond head._

_Of course, I didn't tell him that; instead I said this._

_"What's my problem? My problem is that everything my friends (and Tawni) told me about you guys was true. You Mackenzie Falls people are jerks." Understand of the century there. "And you're like the head jerk. You're like the mayor of Jerksville. The head ambassador of Jerkoslovakia."_

_Chad didn't seem fazed. "You saw the egg salad video," he said. "Yeah. I also direct."_

_I wanted to smack that smug smile right off his smug face. Honestly, what did we ever do to him? Nothing. All I wanted to do was stop the rivalry between the two shows and get off on the right foot. Was that too much to ask in Hollywood? I told Chad this—we were just trying to make peace—but he just scoffed._

"_Please, you were trying to trap us."_

"_Trap you?" I scoffed myself. "You've obviously been watching your show too much. You know, not everything is cut-throat and gossipy. Sometimes people do things because they're trying to be nice."_

_As if on cue, the lights dimmed. I glanced around, but suddenly, Chad's demeanor changed. His expression softened, and he took a step closer to me._

"_Do they, Sonny? Do they really?"_

_My eyes darted around the room as Chad continued advancing toward me, his hand touching my arm. I froze, staring at him, as I felt something—something weird, something not quite right—course through me at the touch. I couldn't have spoken even if I wanted to right at that point._

"_Look, it was sweet of you to put that picnic together," Chad said. "Way sweet. But the bad blood between our two shows has run too deep for too long to be healed by a bowl of egg salad and even the best of intentions. Just because you wish for something doesn't make it so."_

_And he grasped my hand. I felt dizzy, just a tad lightheaded. Even now, the thought makes me nauseous—Chad Dylan Cooper made me weak at the knees? What the hell was I, some sort of weak little girl who got starstruck just because she saw a famous actor?—but then, I just focused on the feel of his skin against mine. The softness of it, the—_

_All right. That's enough._

_Back to the story._

"_Oh, Chad Dylan," I said, embarrassing even myself in that moment. Could I have sounded more like a girl at that point? No, I didn't think so._

"_Shh. Don't speak." Chad put a finger against my lips. "Time for talking's over. I must go."_

_And then he did leave, holding onto my hand until the last second. It was only when he finally left the set, waving at me, that I came back to myself and realized that I just allowed myself—willed myself, if I was to be honest—to get wooed by the biggest jerk at Condor Studios. How could I have been so stupid as to allow myself to let my guard down? I could have easily resisted his charms, but damn it, his eyes were big and blue and just perfectly fit for his face, even though his personality held a lot to be desired._

_Of course, then I had to go back to the So Random set and tell my cast members that I had managed to get nothing back from our rivals._

_Except I had one little problem: I couldn't do it. I couldn't let them down, so I told them that I had challenged them to a contest. To be more specific, a musical chairs contest—which was something that Chad Dylan Cooper obviously did not want to participate in._

_Thankfully, the third time I talked to him, I knew what to expect. And I fought fire with fire, using my own comedic effects to force Chad to agree to that contest. After all, if someone bawked at me, I'd certainly say I would agree just to get them off my back, and I just knew that Chad was going to be the same way._

_So now, tomorrow, Mackenzie Falls and So Random are going to have a musical chairs contest. If So Random wins (which they will), Chad has to say something nice about So Random, give us our parking space back, and buy us a new toilet paper holder. And if Mackenzie Falls wins, they keep everything and we have to say something nice about Mackenzie Falls._

_But I am going to win._

_Personally, I kick butt at musical chairs. I once singlehandedly beat about forty people during a game of musical chairs. And, besides, I have one particular dirty trick in mind if it ends up coming down to Chad and I for a fight to the finish._

_Chad is going to regret annoying me, that's for sure._

_Anyway, I should write in this tomorrow, after the event. See ya._

_Sonny._

I closed the journal at that entry, a small smile on my face. My mother was definitely a geek and so were her costars. I knew that I would definitely have to tease Aunt Tawni about the contest. Although Grady would probably say something like "It was the single best moment of my life," Uncle Nico would probably moan about it and ask me never to bring it up.

And my father.

_My father._

I had only seen a glimpse of him so far, but I couldn't see how my mom—someone so completely down to earth, kind, and intelligent—could fall for someone who seemed to be so arrogant. I couldn't see how Chad had matured enough so that my mother would fall for him.

Yet the answers are all in my lap, enclosed in that small gilt book. They would eventually all be revealed; all I had to do was read on.

Soon all would be known—except the most important question of them all. That would remain unanswered, because I wasn't sure even my mother knew the answer to my most pressing question:

Where the hell was my father?

Tears rose up behind my eyes as I entertained the possibility that I might never find out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, there we are. Not too many answers, but the plot is coming together in my mind, and let me tell you, twists and turns are definitely coming. Please review?

Thanks so much!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I have to say that I am definitely enjoying reading my reviewers' theories. It's intriguing to see how far I am twisting your brains all in circles, and to contemplate the fact that things are just going to get more twisted around before things start to unravel. Your opinions on John Alto are particularly fascinating!

But anyway, thanks to the following people who reviewed: **awesometastic9**, **CaseyBug14**, **Sonny days**, **highfivingjesus**, **Tokiooo**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **lolz3** (anon), **luckme123**, **leoshunny1985**, **pleasedontforget**, **eromdaer451QI**, **Maiqu**, and **kaylinwriter14**!

This chapter won't give away too many answers, but John Alto plays a huge part...

* * *

Chapter Four

The rest of the weekend passed by in a blur.

I didn't go to John Alto's party, although Lilian called me and talked to me for ages, trying to convince me to go. I refused because I was definitely _not _in the party mood. Even if I hadn't been forbidden to go by my mother, I still wouldn't have gone. My mind whirled with too many thoughts and questions that I couldn't possibly smother down for a night of wickedness and debauchery. Not to mention, I didn't want to see the arrogant ass that was John Alto.

On Sunday, one of my other friends, Haylie, came over. If I was to be honest, sometimes I enjoyed her company more than Lilian's, if only because she was calm and quiet. She never wanted to make a scene. She would rather stay at home and write instead of go to a huge party, so whenever I needed someone to just relax and watch a movie with, she was my girl. We spent the whole day watching reruns of _Greek_, my favorite TV show from back when my mother was a teen.

Then Monday rolled around. I entered Pendell Prep that morning to the sound of whispers breaking out all around me.

"Did you hear?"

"She didn't go to the party Saturday."

"Apparently she thinks she's better than everyone else—"

"—self-invitation from John Alto himself, who does she think she is, turning him down—"

"—complete social outcast, don't fraternize with her."

"Oh my God, I can't believe she'd actually show her face around here again."

That last comment came from March Banks, who didn't even bother keeping her voice down. She stared at me from her locker, surrounded by her typical lackeys without brains. Her long red hair was curled just so that it fell down her back in soft waves and was pinned away from her face by two bright green clips. She stood straight, black pumps raising her up to a fake five feet, seven inches.

She noticed my gaze.

"Jackie Lee Munroe," March said, taking a few steps toward me. Just like that, everything in the room froze, as everyone turned to face the drama soon to be unfolding. An unnatural hush fell across the hallway. "Well, well, well. I have to say, I didn't expect to see you show your face around here. Missing John Alto's party for a night in PJs? I never thought anyone could sink that low."

"I never thought I'd see the day when the supposed Queen Bee at Pendell's wore last-season Prada, but apparently that day is today," I said calmly.

March shot a look at the people in the crowd as they gasped in unison. Almost immediately, everyone took a step back or inclined their heads downward.

"Last-season Prada?" March let out a false laugh. "My dear, dear Jackie. You have so much to learn. This is not last-season Prada. Au contraire, ma copine. This is _next _season's Prada. My mother has connections, so she managed to get me this stunning outfit."

"Well, maybe your mother could put those connections to better use," I said, pausing for dramatic effect. After a while, this whole song and dance thing got old. I mean, honestly. Everyone knew that the Queen Bee would eventually be taken down by the young upstart who didn't know what the hell she was doing. She might as well back off now. I paused just the right amount of time for her to shift anxiously on the balls of her feet. "Maybe she could check you into a psych ward?"

More gasps.

March opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, a loud masculine voice broke out from behind me. I froze in place.

No. Way.

"Is that your go-to comeback now?" John Alto said, coming to stand beside me. "I seem to recall you said that to me before you refused to come to my party."

"I did," I said, drawing myself up to my full height. "Does that bother you?"

"Only because it meant that I didn't have a second body to warm me up when I got cold Saturday night," John drawled.

"You're despicable," I said.

"Proud of it, babe."

March let out a trilling laugh. What a perfect cliché.

"Do you even care about this whore, John?" March simpered. "She's not worth your time, you know." She trailed her eyes up and down my body, from the tips of my silver flats to the very top of my high ponytail. "Hell, she was barely worth the effort to torture. She's so far down the totem pole I could use her to shine my shoes."

"That made no sense," I said.

"When you're queen, things don't have to make sense," March said. When she strode by me, she breathed, "You're going to pay for that Prada comment," her alcohol-laden breath infiltrating my nose. She swept by me, her posse shooting me angry glares as they went by.

God, I was so over them. I didn't care what the hell they thought about me. I had better things to do than go to a stupid party.

I shrugged my shoulders at the group of people still staring at me, John included. "Show's over, folks," I said, ushering them away with my hands. "You can go back to your boring as hell lives now."

Hitching my designer book bag over my one shoulder, I made my way to my locker. I had only made it a few steps before I felt something warm and heavy settle itself over my shoulders, and when I turned, a pair of deep brown eyes met mine.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, trying to shrug his arm off my shoulders.

"What do you think I'm doing?" John asked. "I'm escorting you to your locker."

"Why?" I asked, reaching my locker. John dropped his arm from my shoulders—finally—and leaned casually against the one next to me, ignoring the fact that the owner, a shy freshman girl, was hovering anxiously in front of him, too terrified to ask him to move. "I would have thought that you'd be ignoring me religiously since I didn't end up going to your party."

"Well, I've never subscribed to much religion," John said.

"That explains the sluttiness," I muttered under my breath as I dropped my bag from my shoulders and settled it on the side of my locker unoccupied by more than a hundred pounds of pure arrogance. I began to enter my combination into the locker.

John let out a wounded gasp. "I'm hurt, Jackie," he said, putting a hand over his heart.

"Please," I said, taking out my Biology and Geometry books. "You can't be hurt, because you don't have feelings. You're just a bottomless pit of horniness."

"That's me," John said brightly.

"And that's not something to feel proud of." I tried to fit my books into my bag, but no matter how hard I pushed, my Biology book wouldn't quite fit. "_Damn it._"

"Here."

And John grabbed the book out of my hands.

"What the hell?" I asked incredulously, straightening up. "Give it back, John."

"No, I won't," John said smugly, easily fitting the book into his own book bag. "I'm going to be a gentleman and escort you to class."

"I don't need an escort."

"Too bad."

John started walking in the direction of the Biology classroom, although I wasn't sure how he knew that was my very first class of the day. I was forced to do nothing other than hurry after him, winding my way through the crowds of students milling around the halls. If I didn't look like enough of a freak already, having not gone to John's party, I probably looked like an idiot running after him like some lost puppy who just wanted to get forgiveness for some wrongdoing.

"Slow down!" I whined as we neared the Biology classroom. "I can't keep up!"

John slowed down slightly so that I could catch up—but just then, we reached the Biology classroom. He winked at me and, before I could catch my breath, shoved the book in my hands, walking off. Before he even got halfway down the hall, March Banks latched himself onto his arm, probably simpering to him about how he shouldn't talk to me.

I plopped down in my seat at the very back of the classroom and closed my eyes. If the five minutes before class even started was any indication of how the day would end up going, I just wanted to go home, curl up under my plush comforter, and never come out.

* * *

Thankfully, things weren't _terrible _for the rest of the day.

During English, Lilian dropped into the seat next to me, running a hand through her thick hair. She didn't say a word, but halfway through the class, my phone vibrated in my pocket with a text message: **I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but I want to know all the deets this afternoon**. I actually managed to smile; maybe she would be able to be seen with me after all.

March Banks didn't deliberately bait me except during lunch, when she had one of her lackeys bump into me, sending me sprawling into John Alto by accident.

"I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me," he teased.

"Keep dreaming, Alto," I retorted, brushing past him with a smirk.

"Oh, you can be sure of it!" he called after me.

"Perv!"

"Prude!"

"STD-ridden prig!"

And I slipped through the doors leading out of the cafeteria, Haylie right behind me. She immediately wrapped her arms around me, squealing about how excited she was that I was actually standing up for myself and not letting the pressure get to me. Not that she was one to talk—she was notoriously known for succumbing to peer pressure—but the sentiment was the same.

I couldn't help smiling.

Not such a bad day, all in all, although I couldn't wait to get home. Nothing sounded better to me than curling up in the den with some of my best friends to watch a movie and talk about the party I had missed. Not to mention, complain about John Alto to anyone who would listen.

* * *

"So spill."

I looked over my cup at Lilian. "Spill what?"

"The real reason why you didn't want to go to that party," she said. "I mean, I know John is a manwhore—who doesn't know that?—but just because you go to his party doesn't make you one too. And you've disobeyed your mother before."

"It's... complicated."

I frowned, putting my cup down. I twisted my hands together in my lap. Part of me wanted to tell them—it was hard, keeping this secret to myself, not being able to talk to anyone about it—but then, it was private. Finding out who my father was... it was a secret that I felt I only had the right to know, and a secret that no one else should find out about until I was completely ready.

And was I ready to tell someone now?

"Come on," Macy, one of my other friends, wheedled. "It can't be that bad."

"It's not... _bad_, exactly," I hedged.

"Then what is it?" Even Haylie was curious now. "We're your friends. You can tell us."

Haylie scooted closer to me, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders. Lilian and Macy were sprawled out at my feet, staring up at me with hopeful expressions on their faces. They seemed so earnest that I couldn't see turning them down—but I couldn't tell them.

I just couldn't.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just can't tell you."

"Why not?" Lilian whined.

"Because it's personal," I said. "Look, it wasn't easy for me to discover this—" Macy opened her mouth—"and no, I'm not going to tell you what I discovered. It's just... I just barely discovered something about my past, and I need to come to terms with it before I'll be able to tell anyone else. I don't even have the whole story yet, and I need that before anything else."

"But—"

Haylie interrupted Lilian. "Let her be, Lils," Haylie scolded. "If she doesn't want to tell us, she doesn't have to."

"Oh, fine," Lilian huffed.

"But you will tell us eventually, won't you?"

I paused for a minute, staring at the faces of my friends whom I had known for years, ever since we were in diapers and could barely speak. I knew I could trust them, knew they would guard my secret with their lives, but I just knew that Lilian would squeak and demand to know what I knew, Maci would stare at me utterly shocked, and Haylie would immediately hug me as tightly as possible.

None of them would have anything useful to say, at least not at the moment. And who knew if they ever could? What if I told them and it turned out to be a false lead or my father was nowhere to be found? What then? I could never look at them the same.

I sighed.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "I want to tell you guys, but I just don't know. Maybe I'll tell you eventually and maybe I won't. It all depends, okay?"

"Okay," Macy said, immediately understanding. "I hope that you can eventually tell us."

Lilian, although she looked disappointed, nodded in agreement. Haylie mumbled out a quick agreement, and we all agreed unanimously to change the subject and put in a movie. They all knew that they would have to leave soon, as homework did not do itself, but I knew their logic: they were going to be there for me, even though I couldn't tell them what they were there for.

I just smiled at all of them and put my head on Haylie's shoulder as the movie began.

* * *

That night, I stared up at the ceiling, my entire body curled up in a ball under my thick comforters. My eyes were open, but my mother's words were still imprinted in my brain. They swam in front of my eyes, my mother's messy scrawl etching itself in the dark air in front of me. I hadn't read very far, but the relationship she had with her fellow castmates—and Chad—would not leave my mind.

_We won the musical chairs contest... beat Chad at his own game... could have sworn he genuinely cared, but he probably didn't... seemed impressed... maybe disappointed that I didn't want to immediately run to his tweenie bopper show..._

She seemed to genuinely dislike him. I didn't blame her, of course, but the nagging thought in the back of my brain—how did they get to the point where they could have me?—wouldn't disappear. Not to mention, why my mother didn't want to mention him.

That night at dinner, my mother and I had, once again, been silent. It was as if my question was haunting us; ever since I had asked about Chad, my mother had seemed distant. She smiled and tried to make conversation, but her eyes were far away. While I helped her wash the dishes, she had suddenly stopped, arms elbow deep into a sink of sudsy water.

"Mom?" I had asked. "Mom, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," my mother had said brightly, renewing her work on the dishes with fervor. "How was your day at school? Did you get into too much trouble for not going to John Alto's party?"

"Not too much," I murmured, rubbing a particularly stubborn piece of dirt still stuck to the plate I was drying. "Just the usual. And apparently John has developed an interest in me. He wouldn't leave me alone all morning."

It might've been an exaggeration, but I didn't care. It had felt like every time I turned around, John was there, leaning casually against the wall just to give me a wink or stare lecherously after me as I walked to my next class, trying to ignore the way its gaze caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up on end.

My mother had gaped at me during this conversation, recommending that I "keep away from that boy" and "don't let him get to you, Jackie."

No worries there.

I sighed and shifted on my bed. It was _so _weird to imagine my mother as a teenager, only a little older than I was now, being so successful. It was even weirder imagining her relationship with Tawni, Nico, Grady and Zora, since they were so different.

Like Aunt Tawni couldn't be more different now.

Sure, she was still obsessed with her looks and fashion, but she wasn't mean. She had mellowed out, becoming a great friend to my mother. They went almost everywhere together, from vacations to the Cayman Islands to shopping sprees at Barney's and Chanel to get their new looks put together. She was also a great aunt to me, even letting me borrow her special Cocoa Mocha Cocoa discontinued lipstick, even though she had to pay a hundred dollars a tube.

It was hard to imagine Tawni as a "spoiled diva" who "wanted to get her own way constantly," to put it in my teenage mother's words.

Nico and Grady were pretty similar to what they were back then, still getting into mischief, but strangely enough, Grady was with _Portlyn _(yes, that Portlyn, who also didn't spill anything about my father), and Nico and Tawni had gotten married about five years ago now. Still no children between the two of them, but Tawni wanted to make the most out of her small but distinctive acting career before it was all over.

And Zora.

Dear Zora.

I chuckled under my breath. She was probably the weirdest of them all: she had become an elementary school teacher who probably—no, scratch that: definitely—terrified all of her students into doing the best they could just on virtue of their teacher being _Zora Lancaster_, math genius and science professor. Not to mention, she had the occasional actress role over the summer, which awed her students.

So much had changed. It was hard to believe.

I closed my eyes. The last paragraphs my mother had written rang through my mind. I had read up to the moment when Chad had offered Sonny a place at _Mackenzie Falls_, just about a week after the fateful musical chairs contest. I had read the passage so often now that the words had etched themselves into my brain.

_For a moment_, she had written, _I had thought that Chad was actually nice. I mean, he seemed to be, taking me in and letting me stay even when I interrupted the daily meditations of the Mackenzie Falls cast, but I found it was just a joke. A big huge joke on my expense so that I would leave So Random and bring all of my fans over to their show._

_It didn't work, but it still... well, "hurt" isn't the right word, exactly, but I had felt disappointed. I wanted Chad to be nice. I wanted him to appear like he had a heart, like he wanted to do something just because he wanted to be nice, not because he wanted to remain the biggest tween show in the United States._

_But he doesn't. Want to be nice, I mean._

_And **that **hurts, because I like to think of the best of people. I just don't think I can think the best of Chad Dylan Cooper._

_Anyway. See you later. Maybe tomorrow Chad will reveal his heart. I've seen glimpses, but I'd rather like to see more than a glimpse, if you know what I mean, Diary._

_Sonny._

With those words still swirling in my brain, I slipped off to sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, there you go. You got to see a glimpse of March Banks and John Alto. That might've answered some of your questions, but then again, maybe not. However, next chapter might, because guess what?

Next chapter is from CHAD'S PERSPECTIVE. I know you're probably looking forward to it, so please review? I'm not one of those writers who hold chapters hostage, but reviews are definitely a factor that motivates me into updating faster!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **All right, it's official. I have the best readers ever. I enjoy reading all of your reviews (especially the long ones), so here's a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed last chapter: **Anastasia Nikoleta**, **have-a-cookie**, **highfivingjesus**, **Tokiooo**, **holly **(anon), **Konnichiwa Minna**, **Maiqu**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **love-cdc**, **kaylinwriter14**, **leoshunny1985**, **luckyme123**, **eromdaer451QI**, **SWAC1disneyfan**, **ilovesonnywithachancebcn**, **caseybug14**, **Sonny days**, **sonnyandchadstories**, **AnimelovinKiDD**, **FanFicSam **(oh my gosh, your long review made me blush so hard!), **TeddyLuver**, **MakeMeCrazier**, **24QueenMo**, **Girltech101**, **SparklingPC**, **lolz3** (anon), **SWACFREAK29** (anon), **lilly123 **(anon), **g **(anon), and **RitaMarie**!

For this chapter, I'd recommend listening to _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room _by John Mayer, which is the song featured at the beginning of the chapter. It was on repeat as I was writing this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Five

_It's not a silly little moment.  
It's not the storm before the calm.__  
This is the deep and dyin' breath  
__of this love we've been working on.__  
Can't seem to hold you like I want to__  
so I can feel you in my arms.__  
Nobody's gonna come and save you.  
We've pulled too many false alarms._

_We're goin' down  
and you can see it too.__  
We're goin' down  
and you know that we're doomed.  
My dear,  
we're slow dancing in a burning room._

**February 10, 2011**

Chad stood in the threshold of the doorway, leaning against the side. A smile played around the corners of his lips as he watched Sonny rock their daughter, back and forth, singing a soft lullaby to her. It seemed like things might work out—almost. If only he didn't see the tears silently streaming down her face or the way Sonny's eyes were trained, not on Jackie, but on the crib beside her.

"Sonny?" Chad said softly.

She glanced up. "What, Chad?" she asked, voice soft.

Chad entered the room and walked over to Sonny. He took Jackie from her arms, cradling her gently. It still seemed unreal, that he would be holding a baby in a small cramped apartment with Sonny right beside him, instead of sitting on the set of _Mackenzie Falls_ with his cast mates exchanging jokes and asking him for acting advice.

He was eighteen and a father. It was still surreal to him.

Chad shook himself out of his thoughts. "How are you?"

"How do you think I'm doing?" Sonny asked. "I'm doing terrible, thanks for asking."

"Sonny, please don't snap at me," Chad said. "I was just wondering." He sighed and sat down on the chair next to Sonny's. Jackie shifted in his arms and Chad tucked the blanket a little tighter around her tiny body. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, you shouldn't be," Sonny said, standing up and walking toward the crib. She reached inside, taking out the baby blanket nestled in the corner. She fingered the edges. "I'm fine." She ran her hands along the soft fabric. "I'm perfectly fine." She looked up. "Jackie's sleeping. You can probably put her down now, and she'll be fine sleeping for a while."

"Sonny, don't give me that bullcrap," Chad said. "I know you're not fine." He met her gaze. "Why won't you talk to me?"

She dropped the blanket. "There's nothing to talk about."

Before Chad could open his mouth, Sonny left the room, closing the door behind her. Chad let out a sigh and stared down at Jackie, who was sleeping peacefully. Her fist clenched and unclenched with every breath she took, her dark hair tousled and sticking out of her small pink hat.

Chad watched his daughter for a few minutes, then set her down in her crib gently, trying not to wake her. He tucked in the blanket around her body. He smiled at her, then turned and followed Sonny out of the room. He made his way down the hall and into their bedroom, but he could hear Sonny sniffling from the threshold of the nursery.

As he entered the bedroom, he saw Sonny curled up on their bed, tears streaking down her face. She let out a sob as her eyes fell on him standing there.

"_Chad_."

Chad was by her side even before the 'c' was halfway out of her mouth. Sonny sniffled in his arms as he wrapped them around her.

"Sonny," Chad said softly, smoothing back her hair.

"Chad," she said again, letting out a shuddering breath. "I don't think I can do this." Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I _really _don't think I can."

"You can," Chad said, tracking the pad of his thumb along Sonny's soft skin, removing all of her tears. "If I can, God knows you can." He let out a laugh that sounded fake even to his own ears. "Hell, if the most self-centered jerkface on the planet thinks he can do this, I think you can too. You're Sonny Munroe."

"Exactly," Sonny whispered. "I'm Sonny Munroe. This—isn't me."

"Then fix it," Chad said softly. "This isn't the end of the world. That Sonny is in there somewhere."

"That's the thing," Sonny said. Chad had to strain to hear her. "That's it. I don't think she is." She took a deep breath. "I think that Sonny is dead."

"_No_, damn it, Sonny," Chad cursed. "She's not. Believe that."

"I can't."

Chad wondered when their roles had reversed, when Chad had been the one trying to be optimistic and Sonny turned into this cynical girl he didn't recognize. He didn't remember, but it wasn't normal. Chad took a breath himself, letting it fill his lungs with air. He let it out in an exhale.

"Fine," he said. "Don't believe me. But things are gonna be fine."

"How can you be so sure?" Sonny asked.

"Because they have to be," Chad said firmly. "Not for us, not for Marshall or Mr. Condor or your Randoms or my costars. Things have to be fine because there's no other option, because they have to be fine for Jackie. Jackie needs us, Sonny, and we need to be there for her."

"I'm _trying_."

"We both are," Chad said. "And we have to keep trying."

Chad felt Sonny nod against his chest. There was silence for a moment as Sonny wiped the tears away from her own face, then she sat up. Her eyes were still red, but thankfully dry.

"I just... can't help thinking, that's all."

"Thinking what?"

"That it's all my fault."

"It's _not_," Chad said so firmly, tilting Sonny's chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes. "God, Sonny, how many times do I have to tell you this? We couldn't have predicted any of this. This was as much a shock for you as it was for me. Nothing we could've done would have changed anything."

"But—"

"But nothing. End of discussion."

Sonny nodded. They laid down together on their bed, Sonny's head on his chest, Chad's arms wrapped firmly around her waist. There was stillness and silence, and then Sonny brought her head back up. Eyes dry, she pressed her lips to his, softly at first, and then more urgently.

"Please," she whispered, hands trailing down his body.

She didn't have to ask twice. Chad kissed her firmly, urgently, passionately, and pulled her shirt up over her head.

* * *

**February 11, 2011**

The first thing that struck Chad the next morning was the stillness. Everything was quiet, not even a bird chirping outside his window. There was no sound of cars below the window, no sound of Sonny in the bathroom or kitchen, no baby crying from the next room.

Chad bolted upright. He turned to look at Sonny's side of the bed and felt his heart clench painfully inside his chest.

She was gone.

The only evidence that she had ever been there was a letter, folded neatly and placed on her pillow. With shaking hands, Chad reached out and picked it up. He barely managed to unfold it, eyes scanning across Sonny's words.

_Dear Chad, my love,_

_If you're reading this right now, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than words can express, and if there was any other way, then please believe me when I say that I would have taken it without a second thought. But there isn't any other way. I'm sorry._

_I can't do this. I can't look at you and remember. I can't remember what we had. I can't remember everything I lost when I found out I was pregnant. I just can't._

_You say that things are going to be fine, but they're not. Can't you see that? Things are never going to be the same again. We have a baby, for God's sake, and I have no clue how to take care of her. I have no clue how to be a teenage mother, alone with the baby's father, a pretty-boy actor who has probably never held a baby in his life before now._

_We couldn't have done it, Chad. Not after everything._

_I'm going back to the States. Please don't come after me. You already did once, but please, don't do it again. I can't handle it._

_I do love you, Chad. I love you more than words can express._

_And I'm so so sorry._

_Love,_

_Sonny._

The letter fell from his hands. Chad blinked against the itch building up in the back of his eyes. He stared down at the letter, at Sonny's words, and clenched his hands into fists, trying to hold back the feeling in the back of his eyes. He threw the covers off him, slipping into his clothes. He ran through the hall and threw the door to the nursery wide open.

Everything was gone.

The crib, the rocking chairs, the bottles, the blankets, the diapers, the small dresser with Jackie's clothes, and the photograph of Sonny and Chad holding a newborn Jackie in the arms—it was all gone. Everything, down to the smallest article of clothing, had been taken.

Chad only realized he had slid down the wall when he felt the carpeted floor beneath his legs and the wall pressed firmly against his back.

She had taken everything.

_Everything._

With only a damn note saying not to go after her.

Chad pressed clammy palms against his eyes, stars springing up behind his eyes. He screwed his eyes up tightly, trying not to let go. He didn't know how long he stayed like this, hands pressed against his eyes, body shaking with the effort not to let the tears flow, but he did know when his eyes snapped open and he realized what he had to do.

He ran to his room, grabbing his phone from the bedside table, trying not to look at the empty side of the bed or the way their room seemed much barer than he was used to. He simply dialed in a number and waited impatiently for someone to pick up. When a cool voice answered, Chad didn't even allow her to get in three words before he spoke.

"When was the last flight to the United States?"

"Let me see," the cool voice said. There was silence, and Chad almost cursed at her. Damn it, couldn't she see that he was in a hurry? "Ah, yes. The last flight from this airport to the States was around 10:30 last night."

Chad let out a breath.

_Thank God._

"Good," Chad said. "And do you know when the next flight leaving this airport for the States takes off?"

"Just a second."

_I don't have a fucking second!_

"Here we are," the voice said. "The next flight leaving for the States takes off at 9:35. It goes to New York City."

"Thank you."

Chad hung up, glancing at the clock on his bedside table.

9:10.

"Damn it!" Chad yelled to the empty room. He had less than twenty-five minutes to get to an airport an hour away.

Chad didn't even let himself entertain the idea of not finding her. _I am going to find her. I am going to bring her back. I have to. And I will. _Even as he jumped into his car and sped through the traffic, foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal, he didn't let himself think that she was already gone, that she had gone to some other airport. She had to have gone to this one, the plane had to have not left yet, he had to find her.

He had to.

9:35, and he was not there yet.

_Maybe there was a delay_, Chad thought hopelessly as he wove his way through the traffic, ignoring the horns honking behind him.

9:45, and he swung into a parking space at the airport. He ran for the entrance. He pushed his way through the crowd of people, ignoring the angry mutters behind him. He didn't care as he ran for the front of the line, pushing and elbowing to the service desk.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a burly man said and stepped in front of him. "No cuts!"

"What the hell am I doing?" Chad said, stopping short. "I'm trying to stop my girlfriend from getting on a plane with my baby, for fuck's sake! And God help me, if you don't get out of my way, I am going to rip your arms off."

The burly man seemed to think that Chad was telling the truth, because he helped Chad push his way through to the front of the line. The burly man patted Chad on the back when they finally cut in front of a small old lady at the service desk.

"There ya go, little guy," the man said. "I hope it works out for you."

A woman glanced up at Chad. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to know if the 9:35 plane for New York City has left yet," Chad said. "It's urgent."

The woman looked at her computer. She seemed to scroll through the system with no great hurry, popping a bubble with her gum as she looked.

"Yeah, yep, okay," she said, looking up. "It hasn't left yet—"

"Attention, passengers: the 9:35 plane has officially taken off," a cool voice said. "If you missed it, the next plane leaving London for New York is in two and a half hours."

The woman grinned up at Chad. "There's your answer."

His heart nosedived steeply. He nodded at the woman mechanically, the woman's words ringing in his mind. _There's your answer, there's your answer, there's your answer, there's your answer. _His answer was that he was too late. Too late to stop his girlfriend from running.

The drive back to their small apartment was a blur. He remembered none of it, save pulling into his driveway. He put one foot in front of the other on his way to their apartment at the top of the building. He vaguely remembered opening the door to his apartment, the silence deafening. He vaguely remembered entering his bedroom, but after that, it was all a blur—until he reached into his dresser drawer and dug out a small velvet box. He cracked it open.

_Sonny, I love you. Will you marry me?_

Chad snapped the box closed and let it fall from his hands.

* * *

**October 2026:**

"Hey, Chad. You got anything for me?"

Chad threw a brown manila envelope onto his manager's desk. "Yep," he said. "I hope that's satisfactory enough for you?"

His manager, a slim man named Laurence, picked up the manila envelope and perused the outside for a moment. "I'm sure it's more than satisfactory, thank you, Chad." He dropped the manila envelope on the stack of identical ones on the left corner of his desk. "But you know as well as I do that your audition work isn't what I was talking about."

Chad laughed. "I know you too well."

"Ditto."

Chad took a steaming cup of coffee from the tray he held in his hands and placed it on his manager's desk. "Dark, no milk, no sugar, only a scant hint of cream. Just the way you like it."

"Dark and strong, with a hint of lightness," Laurence said. He took a sip and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Ah, that hits the spot. Thanks."

A dark head poked around the corner. "Chad? Coffee? Coffee _with _Chad?"

"Yes, Diana, I have coffee."

The dark head bounded around the corner, but not before shouting, "Oy! Everyone, Chad here has some coffee for us!"

"Fourteen years at this company, and I'm still known as the coffee boy," Chad said, rolling his eyes. "God, don't you people know who I am? I am the great Chad Dylan Cooper, known to everyone everywhere as the great Mackenzie on _Mackenzie Falls_, the best tween show of the 2000s!"

"I know, you're so _iconic_," Diana said, snagging a cup of coffee. "Latte, extra sugar?"

"As usual," Chad said and smiled.

Laurence was not amused. "Chad, I've been trying for ages to get you to make a bigger investment in this company, but you just keep refusing," Laurence said. "You could be our ticket to nationwide, maybe even worldwide, fame. Don't you miss it?"

For a moment, Chad pondered the question. Did he miss being famous? Did he miss being Mackenzie on _Mackenzie Falls_? Did he miss it all, the award shows and the fans and the autographs and the people screaming his name? Did he miss any of it?

"I miss some of it," Chad said. "I mean, I suppose. But—"

"It all comes down to the girl," Mark, another coworker, said, grabbing his own coffee. "You don't want her to see you. You don't want to see her either, as a matter of fact, but you want to stay in the TV industry somehow. So you help us in our tiny little rinky dink producing studio, even though we haven't produced something worthwhile for years."

"That way, you'll still sort of be doing what you love," Diana said, "although there's no chance of that girl ever finding you."

Chad rolled his eyes and took a sip of his scalding hot coffee. "What are you guys, some sort of team psychiatrist for tween show has-beens?"

"Yep," Laurence said brightly. "That's our overtime job."

"We call ourselves the Chad Dylan Cooper Tag Team," Mark said brightly. "One of us is always on Chad Watch. To see how depressed you get in a few months and make sure you don't, you know, like jump off the building or something."

"That's creepy," Chad remarked. "I think you guys should get that checked out."

"Or maybe you should," Laurence said.

Chad shook his head. "Yeah, sure." He put the the tray of coffee on the table designated for that purpose alone. "Anyway, I'll be in my office. Call me if you need anything. I'll be gone around noon to get some lunch, and then there are some interviews I need to take care of."

"For _Into the Great Brown Depths_?"

"Yeah," Chad said.

"Is that the movie with the mud people?"

Diana snickered. "And we wonder why we're not popular."

Chad laughed as Laurence threw a pencil eraser in Diana's direction. He ducked into his office, hands wrapped tightly around his coffee cup. He shut the door behind him, cutting off the sound of the laughter in his manager's office. He dropped down into his chair and stared out the window after he pressed the button to start up his computer.

It was hard to believe that a decade and a half ago, he had been in Hollywood, living the dream, and now he was in London, doing some hum-drum job at some third-rate producing industry, trying to find people who would make great mud men. It was even harder to believe that fifteen years ago, he had been with the love of his life, Sonny Munroe, and now—

Chad sighed. Now he was down a love and a daughter.

Almost as if his computer knew what he was thinking, it pinged.

_You've Got Mail!_

Chad clicked on the link, waiting impatiently for his email to load. When it finally did, he saw that he had a message from Portlyn.

_Thank God._

Portlyn had been one of his closest friends ever since they had been on _Mackenzie Falls _together. Although he had lost touch with Chloe and the rest of the cast, Chad and Portlyn had formed a very special bond, probably borne out of the many years when they were the only members of the cast that had actually stuck around. They had known each other since the very first season of _Mackenzie Falls_, and that was bound to force them to become friends somewhere down the line.

It just so happened that they were still friends now and Portlyn, as she was currently dating Grady (Chad could never get used to that idea), had close connections with Sonny.

_And_ his daughter.

Chad couldn't click on the link fast enough. He waited impatiently for it to load.

_Dear Chad_, he read.

_Things are going great here in New York. I had a ball about a month ago. Sonny and Jackie both attended, and pictures are enclosed. I know you want to see what Jackie looks like, but Chad, the pictures don't do her justice. She is extraordinary and when you meet her, you'll be shocked at how much she's like you. She has your attitude and your confidence. Sometimes she drives poor Sonny up the wall._

_In the past month, there was also the homecoming dance at Jackie's school. Can you believe that she's already a sophomore? It's hard to believe. She looked gorgeous at the dance. She actually wore blue, and her dress looked so much like the dress Sonny wore to the Tween Scene Awards in 2009. Sonny could barely look at her; I'd imagine that's why._

_And you know all about Sonny's movie premiere, I'm sure, and have already seen pictures. Don't worry; the rumors about Richard Nolan and her are just that: rumors. I don't think she's even tried to date anyone recently._

_So as you can see, everything's going well. Jackie's settling into her new year at Pendell's wonderfully._

_The only problem is that Tawni tells me that Jackie is starting to ask questions. Chad, she wants to know who you are. She keeps pestering Tawni, Nico, and Grady about it. She even asked me about you the night of the ball, and I had to say that I didn't know. You know the story by now: you guys met Sonny's first year at So Random, she didn't like you at first, but you fell in love, blah, blah, blah. She's not going to buy that story for much longer, and pretty soon, I'm not sure if Sonny's going to be able to handle it._

_Honestly, Chad, I don't get why you don't just come home. We all miss you. Jackie deserves to know her father. Sonny needs to see you again. I don't know why you let her get away the second time, why you didn't go after her._

_Please, Chad. Come back. We can handle Sonny._

_All the best,_

_Portlyn._

Chad sighed.

Portlyn didn't understand. He didn't _want _them to have to "handle Sonny." He wanted Sonny to ask him to be there. He wanted Sonny to wish him back in her life, to get to know his daughter. He didn't want to force his way into her life or go after her.

He had already gone after her once.

And in the end, she had left again.

He couldn't—wouldn't—do that again. Sure, he might want to know Jackie—God, he wanted to know her—but if Sonny didn't want it, then... there was nothing he could do.

Chad tried to remove those thoughts from his head. He was at work; he couldn't afford to get depressed with the interviews just around the corner. Instead of thinking about Sonny, he thought about his daughter, his beautifully bright daughter, glowing with her friends all around her at Portlyn's ball. She looked resplendent, Chad thought, with her strapless red dress making her look every minute of her fifteen years.

To think that she was almost sixteen.

Chad closed out the browser. He wondered exactly what he had missed during those sixteen years. How many other milestones would he miss before he would be back in Jackie's life? Would he ever be back in her life?

Chad closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. When he opened his eyes again, Jackie was in the back of his mind. That was the way it had to be; if it wasn't, it would hurt too much. If she was in the back, then so was Sonny.

And however much the thought of losing Jackie hurt, the thought of losing Sonny hurt that much more.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Writing this chapter, I almost cried. I hope this answered some of your questions, especially regarding the paternity of John. Anyway, please review? Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much to the following people who reviewed: **cookie monster **(anon), **perfectpro**, **harriet_1998 **(anon), **Breanna **(anon), **lolz3 **(anon), **have-a-cookie**, **ilovesonnywithachancebcn**, **zanessarobsten4ever **(anon), **love-cdc **(anon), **eromdaer451QI**, **cheyskyeenne**, **caseybug14**, **Sonny days**, **S24 **(anon), **LiveLaughLoveMusicAngel**, **Tokiooo**, **highfivingjesus**, **Waiting for Him**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **swac1237**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **luckyme123** (anon), **RitaMarie**, **Anastasia Nikoleta**, **kaylinwriter14**, **Maiqu**, **24QueenMo**, and **Girltech101**.

A lot of you had questions about why Chad took the job he did, since he seemed to love fame so much. Well, let's just say that the answer to that question will be revealed later on, and you'll understand perfectly. But now, back to Jackie.

* * *

Chapter Six

_The cool breeze brushed against my bare arms. I shivered against the wind, rubbing my hands against my arms, trying to warm them up. I glanced up at the snowy road ahead of me. A light glowed in the distance, bright and welcoming. I knew, without even having to be told, that I had to get to the light. I didn't care what I would find; I just knew I had to get there._

_I began walking. My sneakers crunched against the snow beneath my feet, which was one of the major things wrong with the picture: I never wore sneakers, if I could help it. The only time I actually wore them was in gym, when I had no choice. In weather like this, my footwear of choice was a pair of soft shin-high boots that enabled me to tuck in my skinny jeans._

_My walk turned into a run. My feet pounded against the crunchy snow, and I picked up my pace as I came ever closer to the light._

_Almost there, almost there—_

_I reached the light. I reached out to touch the window from whence it came, and then—suddenly, I was no longer there on the cold street._

_I blinked against the sudden artificial light blazing all around me. As my eyes grew accustomed, I began to look around._

_I was on a stage._

"_Go on," a voice hissed._

"_What?" I asked._

"_Go on."_

_I looked around again—and saw the vision of my father like he had been about sixteen years ago leaning against a prop. His hair, perfectly coiffed, lay straight on his head, the blonde highlights shimmering in the artificial lighting._

"_Hey, Jackie," Chad said gently._

"_D-Dad?" I stuttered._

"_Did ya miss me?" he said, grinning broadly._

"_Dad!"_

_Even though I normally was not one for physical affection—not one at all, in fact—I couldn't help walking toward him, arms outstretched. He began advancing toward me as well._

"_Jackie!"_

_I paused. Who—?_

_"Jackie!"_

_I turned around._

_No one._

"_Jackie, come on, wake up!"_

I groaned and shifted on my bed. I tried to hold onto the image of my dream, keeping my eyes screwed tightly shut.

_Chad was close now. Close enough to touch, in fact, and I reached out to hug him when—_

"Jackie, come on," my mother implored, shaking me.

I moaned. "No."

"Yes," my mother insisted. "You have to get up. School today, remember?"

"I remember," I muttered. "I just really don't want to go today, Mom. Can't I skip today? I skipped a day last week to go shopping, remember?"

"Only because Tawni threatened to do something terrible to me if I didn't let you two go," my mother said. "Now don't make me throw water on you. Don't think I won't, either. You know as well as I do that I've done it once before."

I burrowed my way under my covers. I knew from prior experience that she was completely telling the truth, but I didn't want to get up. The dream still ran through my head. The image of my father, confident and young, would not leave my head, and I wanted it to stay there as long as possible. As I stuffed my head under a pillow and shifted my arms so they were back under the covers, my fingers brushed against my mother's journal.

My heart almost stopped.

If my mother came across the box I had brought to my room, I was _dead. _It was currently under my bed, but if she tried getting me out of bed, she'd see the journal.

And I couldn't let that happen.

I curled my fingers around the binding of the journal. Shifting under my covers like I was trying to wake up, I shoved it deep under my pillow.

"Jackie," my mother said, the barest hint of a smile in her voice. She began pulling the blankets off my body. "Come on." She pushed me slightly. "Up!"

I groaned and rolled over, tugging the blankets away from my body. I sat up and tumbled out of bed, blinking blearily at the light streaming through my window. I focused my eyes on my mother, sitting on the edge of my bed. She looked tired, I immediately noticed, with deep bags under her eyes and a smile on her face that looked faker than March's hair color.

"Mom?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," my mother said flippantly, standing up. "Now, it's 6:30. You'd better start getting ready or you'll be late. And you don't want to be late."

My mother wrapped her arms around me for a moment, then let go, leaving me alone in my room to get ready for school. I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment, staring at the pillow under which I had stuffed the journal, then stood up and began getting ready for school.

Forty minutes later, hair freshly dried and pulled into a tight ponytail, I descended the stairs into the kitchen. My mother was seated at the small breakfast table. Eggs, bacon, toast, and a huge pitcher of orange juice was laid out before her, but she hadn't touched a single thing. She played with the glass in her hands, turning it over and over.

"Mom, honestly," I said, plopping down into the seat next to her. "If you're going to space out, please refrain from doing it more than once in a week, okay? Or at least, don't do it when I can see you. It's very frustrating, since you won't tell me what the hell you're spacing out for anyway."

"Language, Jackie."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry."

I started to pick at my breakfast, poking at my eggs with my fork. How many times would I have to ask my mother to tell me what was going on? Ever since I had asked her about my father, she had been distant, unable to speak to me for more than a few minutes at a time. She spoke to Tawni for hours on the phone and even Portlyn came around to the house asking about my mother. Her friends were getting worried, but still, she remained distant and sullen.

It had been a week since I had asked her, almost to the day. In fact, it had been more than a week. And I didn't know what was wrong.

My father had been gone for fifteen, almost sixteen, years of my life. There was obviously a good reason why they were separated now, so why would she still be hung up on him? She had to know I'd be asking questions eventually. I mean, my mother is not _stupid._

"Jackie, please stop playing with your food," my mother said.

I didn't say a word, simply shoveled a forkful of eggs into my mouth. I glanced at the clock, then promptly choked on my mouthful.

"Oh my God, it's 7:40?" I screeched. "It takes me half an hour to get to school, and classes start at 7:55!"

Five minutes later, with a granola bar clutched in my hand to eat on the way to school, I was on my bike to pedal to school. I had just gone past the infamous Met steps when a limo slowed to a stop beside me. I stopped pedaling and stared into the eyes of—who else?

John Alto.

"What do you want, John?" I huffed.

"Need a ride?" he asked. "School starts in less than ten minutes, you know."

"And you actually expect me to believe you'd get to school on time," I retorted. "Please. You haven't been on time since the Monday after your party."

"I might make an exception today," John said. "Now, come on. Get in."

"I can't," I said.

"Oh, why not?"

"Because you might try to—I don't know—rape me in the backseat or something," I said. "I wouldn't be surprised."

John laughed. "Come on, Munroe," he said. "Give me some credit."

"Not likely."

"Just get in," John said. "Your little bike can fit in the trunk, and we can both get to school in time. I won't violate you, if that's what you're afraid of." He grinned at me. "Besides, if you don't get in out of your own free will, I'll get Ernesto to throw you in here."

Remembering the sight of Ernesto, John's thickset personal chauffeur, I reluctantly left my bike sitting on the curb and slid into the seat next to John. Ernesto stepped out of the limo to move my bike to the trunk, leaving John and I sitting in the backseat alone.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"The feeling is mutual."

* * *

It was expected.

After all, only one sort of girl ever stepped foot outside of John's limo in the mornings before school. They were the little March Banks of the school, the junior sluts, the ones who did anything just so they could warm John Alto's bed for a night. They were the whores. No one fraternized with them; no one wanted to. None of them cared about much more than being the one who would finally tame the great John Alto, so they didn't have time for girl friends either.

Even though school started in two minutes, the reaction of the few people still milling around Pendell's courtyard was loud enough to make me think everyone was there when I stepped outside John's limo.

"Oh. My. God."

"_She_ is John's new whore?"

The whispers followed me through the courtyard, up the stone steps, and even into the nearly empty halls. John was right behind me the whole way there, which would not help the rumors that would circulate through the school as the people in the courtyard gossiped to their friends.

"See you at lunch," John said, nudging me in the ribs.

"Shut the hell up," I snapped as I slipped into my class right as the bell rang. I sat down in my seat heavily, let out a huge sigh, and buried my head in my arms.

What a _perfect _start to the day.

* * *

Getting through the rest of the day was a challenge. Everywhere I went, the rumors followed. March Banks shot me thoroughly disgusted looks in the hallway as I passed her, and I was nearly one hundred percent positive that it was her lackeys that started the most unsavory rumors about my arrival in John's limo. My friends even seemed to believe them, if the way Lilian, Maci, and Haylie's eyes fell on anyone but me was any indication. To put it simply, the day was hell.

Since I didn't feel like hanging out with my friends if they believed the worst of me, I opted to return home as soon as school ended.

As I entered the spacious lobby, I heard my mother's voice echo from upstairs.

"Mom!" I called. "I'm home!"

No answer.

I dropped my bag by the door and took the stairs three at a time. Even though my mother wasn't the same lately, I knew that if I needed to talk to someone, she was always going to be there for me. And today I desperately needed to talk to someone.

As I stopped in front of her bedroom door, I heard her voice echo through the wood.

"No, Portlyn," she snapped. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

I put my hand on the door and shamelessly leaned against it, ear pressed against the wood. What couldn't my mother do?

"No," she said again. "I know that Jackie should know this, and I _know _she's getting curious about him, but—" My mother's voice cracked. "I just can't." A tiny sniffle. "I'm not ready, okay? I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready to—to think about that time in my life."

_What _time in her life? _What _should I know? Who was I getting curious about? The questions whirled through my mind, dizziness swirling up inside me. I knew the answer to that last one—my father—but why was my mother having a conversation with Portlyn about my father?

"You don't understand," my mother said as her voice grew hard. "It might have been sixteen years ago, but you don't just get over something like that."

Something like _what?_

My mother sighed loudly from the other side of the door. "Seeing him won't make a difference, Portlyn," she said. "If anything, it would make things worse. Jackie—doesn't know the whole story. And I don't want her to know anything but what she's already figured out."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I had apparently figured out some parts of my past or my mother wouldn't be so hesitant about telling me more. Although... why didn't my mother want to see my father? Why would my father's appearance in my life make things worse?

Every little girl needs a father. Every teenage girl needs a dad to fight with about boys. Why would the sudden appearance of that figure in my life make much of a difference at all?

"My answer's final," my mother snapped. "I am not going to see Chad. I don't care if you tie him up and bring him here yourself."

There was silence. My mother had apparently hung up on Portlyn. I still leaned against the door, hoping to hear something—anything—from the other side of the door, but there was nothing. The conversation was over, and so were my mother's thoughts about Chad.

My fist hovered above the door for a brief moment as I wondered if I should knock, but my arm fell limp by my side.

Suddenly I no longer wanted to talk to my mother. If she wasn't going to tell me the truth, then I would just have to uncover more information on my own. I had more than enough information stashed in my room to uncover the true story, and pretty soon, my mother would not be able to avoid the conversation with me.

Pretty soon, I'd know everything.

* * *

Most of the entries I'd read in my mother's diary over the past few days were rather mundane, just the regular shenanigans that went on during the filming of _So Random_. I read about Sonny worrying about her lack of fan letters, but other than that, nothing interesting occurred. I read more about her ten-second interactions with Chad Dylan Cooper, which I read over and over again so that they were etched in my mind, but it was more of the same: typical flirty, "pretending-to-hate-you-when-really-I-like-you" behavior.

That is, until I reached the entries for February 20. I had just read about the conflict regarding Tawni and Sonny, and how Sonny felt so inferior because of her lack of fan letters, culminating in the invention of a fake letter. I read about her charade as Eric, and finally, about Marshall's idea to bring Eric onto the set of _So Random _so the two could meet.

That February 20 entry was the first one that actually showed me the side of Chad Sonny had been looking for: the nice side.

_Dear Diary_, Sonny wrote.

_I don't even know what to write._

_All I can say is that I finally saw the side of Chad that I had been searching for. It took a month and a half, but Chad finally showed that he cared about something more than his own success. He showed me that he might actually care about me, saving me from total public humiliation. _

_He pretended to be Eric for me. He pretended to be my greatest fan in order to save me from making a fool out of myself in front of millions of people._

_At first, he was just the typical arrogant ass. As I was frantically searching through all of the backstage boxes for my Eric costume, Chad came in. Apparently he knew all along that I was "Weird Beard," as he dubbed Eric, ever since I had accidentally run across them in the halls. He inquired as to why I was "Weird Beard" and I couldn't help asking him why he cared. He never seemed to care before._

"_I don't know," he said. "Let's give it a shot."_

_Typical Chad._

"_Well. I sent myself a fan letter," I said reluctantly. God, it was humiliating to tell Chad that I had sent myself a fan letter. "I pretended to be my own fan and now I get to go on stage and meet the fan that I'm pretending to be."_

_The whole scenario sounded so much more ridiculous once I said it out loud. And now, writing it down, it just looks all that more ridiculous. I mean, really, did I expect to pull that one off without a hitch? Especially with Tawni's jealousy issues getting in the way?_

_Chad's expression was, as expected, confused. "Why would you send yourself a fan letter?"_

_I sighed. "Because I lost faith in myself."_

_And at that point, I actually thought that Chad cared as he opened his mouth. "Ah," he said. "Classic case of actor insecurity. Started doubting your abilities, wondering whether you were good enough and whether you deserved to be on TV."_

_"So you've been through this?" I asked._

_Chad let out a laugh. "No. No, but I made you think I had, which is why I'll never go through it."_

_I told Chad exactly what I was thinking—you're unbelievable, you don't care, I thought we were having a real moment here—and before he could respond, the announcer proclaimed that it was time for me to go on stage. Chad asked me what I was going to do, but I felt so miserable that I couldn't answer him. After all, I didn't even have an answer._

_So I just said, "You don't care, remember? But I do. Now excuse me while I go out there and embarrass myself."_

_But he rescued me._

_He saved me from public humiliation. He tried on the weird beard, he came out on stage, he said that he was my biggest fan. Tawni was hilarious when she found out; her mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe it, and neither could I._

_Chad really does care, even though he tried to deny it. He does have the heart I was looking for, even though he might not show it all that often. He's not the complete jerkface I thought he was, and it turns out, we did have a real moment backstage, or else he wouldn't have come to my rescue._

_Maybe all is not lost between Chad and I. Who knows? Maybe "friends" isn't as much of a reach as I thought it was._

_Love,_

_Sonny._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ugh, I'm not sure about this chapter at all. Writing it was like pulling teeth, but I tried, just because I know my readers are getting impatient with me. I know this chapter probably sucks, but trust me, drama's coming. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to write. I'm thinking you might get a taste of what some other characters are thinking... say, John Alto.

I'll try to get the next chapter up within the next few days, but no promises, because I have a huge conference thing to go to over the weekend and I have to get my homework done today and tomorrow. Anyway, please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Wow! Thanks so much to the following people who reviewed: **standOutx**, **leoshunny1985**, **zanessarobsten4ever** (anon), **highfivingjesus**, **Channy4ever**, **caseybug14**, **it rains when you're gone x**, **perfectpro**, **TeddyLuver**, **Sonny days**, **Zoezora**, **Paramore4eva0602**, **Imabookworm568**, **Tokiooo**, **ranimohd91**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **kaylinwriter14**, **lolz3**, **LiveLaughLoveMusicAngel**, **Maiqu**, **WowzersImBack**, **Waiting For Him**, and **eromdaer451QI**.

From this point on, I'll be specifying whose POV it is at the beginning of each section. I originally wanted this chapter to only be from Jackie's perspective, but that's not going to happen, so there will be some of John's perspective. And maybe Sonny a little later on in the story itself. To be honest, I'm surprised at how much you guys are disliking her right now, but you'll definitely understand why she's acting the way she's acting once everything gets revealed.

* * *

Chapter Seven

_Jackie_

"Munroe."

My fingers stilled on the dial of my locker. I closed my eyes, then opened them. It was just my luck that the one person I didn't want to talk to—excluding John Alto, of course—would go to any lengths necessary in order to bait me.

"I won't ask again," March Banks said in a singsong voice. "Turn around."

I rolled my eyes but decided to take the bait. After all, there was only so much March Banks could do to me, and what she could do was dwindling by the day. Her power was slipping, she knew; if she couldn't even get John Alto to take a second look at her, the resident manwhore of the school, then there was no hope for her as Queen Bee for much longer.

"What do you want, March?" I asked, turning around.

"I think you know."

March tried to look imposing, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lackeys flanking her on either side, but she just looked pathetic. I always thought that if the Queen Bee of a school couldn't confront a lowly sophomore on their own, then they didn't deserve to be Queen. But apparently no one else held my opinion of the issue.

I crossed my arms over my own chest, drawing myself up to my full height. "No, I don't think I do. Please enlighten me?"

"What the hell was that about yesterday morning?" March snarled.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about."

"You got out of John's limo yesterday," March snapped. "And no one gets out of John's limo in the morning unless they fucked him the night before."

"Really?" I asked.

"Oh, don't play dumb," March said. "Just tell me. What made you think sleeping with John would save your reputation? Because I am going to _destroy _you. The next few years are going to be your own personal hell on Earth."

I couldn't help laughing. March's lackeys tittered behind her.

"Look, I don't care what you think," I said. "I didn't sleep with John, and I think anyone who would is absolutely _disgusting._" I made sure March knew the comment was directed toward her, eyes sweeping from her low-cut, barely acceptable white blouse to her short, against regulation black skirt. "I mean, really. How many times do you think he's gotten crabs in the past few months alone?"

March ignored my last statement.

"Oh, please," March said. "Do you really think I'll believe that lie? Everyone sleeps with John."

"Exactly," I said, "which is why I never will."

March laughed. "I don't know why you expect me to believe that lie," she said. "But let me just tell you this, Jackie Munroe. If you ever—and I mean _ever—_contact John again, I will personally take what little popularity you still have and crush it."

With that, March turned on her Jimmy Choos and marched off. Her lackeys shot one last glare in my direction and followed in her wake, leaving me standing at my locker. I let out a laugh as they turned the corner toward the science wing.

Really, did they think that was supposed to intimidate me?

If they did, they certainly did not realize that I was Jackie Munroe, and I did not get intimidated easily, if at all. If I wanted to talk to John—which I really didn't, not after his attitude as of late—then I would, and there was nothing March or anyone else could do to stop me.

I turned back to my locker and began entering my combination again. As usual, I began wondering about my father, and what he would have done in this exact same situation. He certainly didn't seem like a guy who allowed people to push him around or tell him what to do. He seemed confident and sure of himself, judging from the entries I had read in my mother's journal, so he probably would have done the same thing I did.

The thought was terrifying. I wondered in how many other ways I was like Chad Dylan Cooper. How much of my father, the man I had never met, was in my veins somewhere, changing my personality and making me the person I was today?

* * *

"Hey, girl," Haylie said during lunch, when I sat down at the far end of the table, away from my friends. She had slid into the seat next to me, her impeccably packed lunch plopped in front of her. "What's up? You didn't come to the juice bar with us after school yesterday."

"Why do you care?" I asked, picking at the mashed potatoes on my plate. "You believed them all yesterday, didn't you?"

"What, the rumors?" Haylie asked. "No, of course I didn't believe them!"

I glanced up at Haylie. "Really? Then why did you give me all those looks?"

"I was trying to get your attention," Haylie said. "I had a feeling that you would never sleep with John Alto with the way he hasn't stopped torturing you these past few days, so I wanted to get the full story from you. But you wouldn't let me explain."

"You looked pretty accusing," I defended.

Haylie smiled. "I know. But I figured you would get so angry at me for judging you that you would start to talk to me, and you'd realize that I just want to help you."

"There's nothing you can help me with," I said softly, thinking about the journal stuffed under my bed. "I can handle John Alto and March Banks on my own."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Haylie reached over and gently plucked the fork out of my hands, preventing me from picking at my mashed potatoes any longer. "Jackie, I know that there's something bothering you, and I know that you think you can't tell me about it, but I'm here for you. I've been your best friend since we were three months old. If there's anything that's going on, you can tell me."

I looked at Haylie, then dropped my eyes back to my plate. I wanted to believe her—God knew I did—but I didn't even have a clue where my father was. I didn't know why my mother had kept this secret from me for almost sixteen long years, and I didn't know why my father had not tried to contact us at all during that time. I didn't seem to know anything nowadays—nothing about my father, nothing about my mother, nothing about my friends' allegiances, nothing about John Alto, and certainly nothing about March Banks.

How could I know that Haylie could be trusted? For all I knew, she would immediately tell Lilian and the rest, and the secret of my sad, sad past would be spread to the whole school. After all, Lilian was a terrible keeper of secrets, and Haylie was often pushed around.

And yet—she was my best friend. Lilian might be one of my best friends, but Haylie was right. I had known her the longest.

I thought I could trust her.

"I don't know," I said slowly. "It's complicated."

"You know I'm a good listener," Haylie said softly. "I promise that I won't say anything to Lilian or Macy or anyone else." Her lips quirked. "I swear on my Vera Wang dress collection."

I couldn't help laughing.

"Fine," I relented. "I'll tell you—but only after school. Not before that, and you'll come right up to my bedroom when you get to my house. Okay?"

Haylie nodded.

"Okay."

"Good," I said. "Now can I get my fork back?"

* * *

_John_

I glanced over Jason's head at Jackie, just as she tipped her head back and laughed, revealing a smooth expanse of soft white skin.

God, she was sexy.

And she wasn't sexy in an overt way either, like March Banks was sexy. While March Banks and all the other whores in the school tried to get my attention by wearing the typical slutty-schoolgirl look—you know the kind, short skirts up to the crotch, shirts that almost showed the damn girl's nipples—Jackie was different. Jackie didn't dress up for anyone, except maybe herself. She actually dared to wear jeans to this school, which was anathema to the whores.

Their logic was: _if he can't see it and I can't flaunt it, then he won't want to be with me. _Little did they know that I found Jackie's little hard-to-get act amusing. I liked the way she didn't try to get my attention, wearing modest, knee-length black skirts—per regulation—and white blouses buttoned almost to her neck, revealing only a slimmer of her porcelain collarbone. It was rare to find skirts that only showed a couple inches of creamy lower thighs, or shirts that only allowed me to catch a glimpse of cleavage.

She amused me. She intrigued me.

I wondered how she could resist my charm when anyone else in the damn school would swoon if I even so much as looked at them.

"Thinking about Munroe again?" Jason asked, noticing the direction of my gaze.

I shook my head. "Of course not, dude," I said. "Why would I? She's just a fucking girl."

Jason snickered. "I bet you'd like to fuck that girl."

"How do you know I haven't?"

"Please," Jason said. "I think you're underestimating your fucking skills, man. If you had tapped that hot ass—" he tipped his head in Jackie's direction—"then she'd be sitting here begging for you to do it again. And again and again—"

I laughed. "She's not like that," I said, eyes traveling to Jackie again. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned forward, talking animatedly to her friend. "She's like a fucking alien in this world we live in, Jason. She's not like the rest of us."

"And I suppose that's all because of her famous mother?" Nathan said from Jason's side.

"It might be," I conceded.

"And she's probably not as innocent as you think she is," Jason observed. "You know what they say. You can't keep a bad girl down for long—and if Jackie's got any sort of bad side to her, you can tap that so hard she'll be sore for a week."

"However amusing that sounds, Jason, I don't think she'd ever let her guard down with me," I said. "She's too cautious. Too secure."

"Not lately."

These last words came from a junior a little further down the table, about three seats down from me. I turned to look at him, vaguely remembering his name being rather odd. Kieran, I thought it was.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Haven't you noticed?" Kieran said. "Jackie's not been herself lately. She's been lashing out at March Banks, which is surprising considering her desperate need to fit in at the beginning of the year." Kieran grinned. "I have a feeling the resident good girl of the school is cracking. She let you drive her to school in your limo, right?"

I didn't answer, but I understood his point. She had been different than usual, going against March Banks. She had a short fuse—which made her look even more fuckable than usual when it was lit. And Kieran was right. She had allowed me to ride her to school in my limo, and she knew damn well what that would mean for her reputation.

"Yeah," I said, a huge fucking grin on my face. "She did."

"Then it's only a matter of time before she lets you fuck her for real," Kieran said.

"Congrats, man," Jason said, thumping me on the back. "You're going to corrupt the poor innocent Virgin Mary. You ought to be proud."

I kept my eyes trained on Jackie. She laughed again at something her friend—Haylie, I thought her name was—said, dabbing at the side of her mouth with a napkin. As she reached for her glass of water, she looked across the room—and her eyes met mine.

I grinned. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

Jackie hurriedly began trying to gather her things together, but stopped when she realized that everyone was watching me advance toward her. No doubt they thought she was trying to get away from me before I broke up with her in front of the whole school. Little did they know that what I had planned was so much more amusing than that.

"Hey, Jackie," I said easily, gently.

"What do you want, John?" she asked, lips tight around the corners.

Oh, she walked _right _into that one.

"You," I breathed.

Her friend, Haylie, let out a snort and tried to stifle it by taking a sip of her orange juice. She failed to do so without being noticed, coughing loudly for a few moments before she managed to get her breath back.

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Oh. My. God," she said, accentuating each word. "I can't believe you'd try that trick on me. Do I look stupid?"

"Of course not," I said, placing my hands on the table. I moved my head closer to Jackie's, so our lips were a scant inch or two apart. "You look stunning. Ravishing." I let my eyes travel down her body and back up to her eyes. "I'd be honored to be the one to do the ravishing."

To my surprise, Jackie leaned forward, breath puffing against my lips. "Really?" she asked, eyes wide as they stared into mine. "Are you willing?"

"More than willing."

Jackie leaned across the table toward me, our lips almost touching, when—

"What the hell was that for?"

I pressed my hand to my cheek, the place where she slapped me still stinging. Jackie laughed, standing up and swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"That was for messing with me," she breathed. "If you ever try to pull such an inane trick like that again, I'll do more than just slap you. Got it?"

"I like my women rough and feisty," I retorted.

Two quick steps around the table, her eyes blazing with anger, and then my other cheek stung.

"Quit with the cheesy words, John," Jackie warned. "They might work on all the other whores in this Godforsaken school, but they won't work on me. Don't test my patience."

She didn't allow me a chance to respond. She just spun on her heel and walked out of the cafeteria, Haylie right on her heels. They shot me one last disgusted look over their shoulders as they neared the doorway, then disappeared into the mass of people outside of the cafeteria.

There was dead silence. Everyone seemed to have witnessed my little altercation with Jackie; Jason, Kieran and Nathan were all laughing at the table I deserted. I turned to face the rest of the cafeteria and smirked.

"So who wants to temper the poor sting of rejection?"

* * *

Later that night, I lounged in my bedroom, one leg slung up over the arm of my plush leather couch. Normally I'd be out on the town at this time, using my limo to pick up a girl or a drink (some nights both), but my father, Marlon Alto, had requested that I stay in tonight.

For what reason, I wasn't sure, but I knew it had to be quite pressing. My father tended to keep to himself, so if he requested I stay in, then he must have something important to say to me. It was probably about the bag of cocaine a senior had slipped me in the hallway a few weeks ago. The news must have reached him by now.

"Mr. John," Jacob, my butler, said from the other side of my door. "Your father is ready to see you now."

"Tell him I will be right there," I called through the door.

"Very well, Mr. John."

I heard the butler walk away from the door. I leaned my head against the other arm of my couch, running my free hand through my dark hair, rumpling it beyond fixing. If I had to meet my father, I wouldn't sacrifice who I was in order to do so. I would dress up in a nice dark suit with a bright contrasting tie, but I would not be perfectly put together. He knew I wasn't like him, so I failed to see why I had to pretend to be.

I waited an appropriate period of time—five, six, seven minutes—and then stood up. I exited my bedroom, heading to my father's chambers.

"Mr. John," Jacob said, hurrying to catch me. "You're late."

"I'm sure my father is used to it," I said, slipping into professionalism. "He knows I'm a disappointment to the Alto dynasty."

"If I may be so bold, Mr. John, I'd say that you are not a disappointment."

I let out a laugh. "I'm a big fucking disappointment, Jacob," I said. "Don't even bother trying to make me think otherwise."

Jacob nodded. "Very well, sir. We're here."

"All right," I said. "You may go now."

Jacob nodded once more, then turned and walked away. I stood in front of the door for a moment, and then I pushed it open, entering my father's spacious office. My father was seated in the leather chair behind his polished oak desk, a phone clutched to his ear.

"Father?"

My father looked up from his conversation for a brief moment.

"Hello, John," he said. "Take a seat."

I obeyed reluctantly, sitting in one of the chairs in front of my father's desk. I immediately started to slouch, lazily watching my father conduct his conversation.

"What were you saying?" he asked.

Since my father was almost as deaf as a bat, his phone's volume was up so high that I could hear the other person's voice clearly.

"I was just saying that we need to get ourselves on the map," a smooth male voice said from the other end of the phone. "We've been trying for years—a decade and a half, to be exact, and we need to get ourselves out there before all of my employees leave."

My father raised an eyebrow. "And why would I want to work with a company that is going under?"

"Because we would make it worth your time."

"How would you go about doing that?"

"We have good scripts," the man said. "Although we have not been able to direct and produce them ourselves, we would be able to do so under your company. We have good actors and actresses in the wings, ready to jump into work within a moments' notice. And we have a world-famous actor within our midst, working with us on many of our productions. He might prove useful."

My father drummed his fingers on his desk.

"Laurence, I think you are too hasty," he said. "Alto Incorporated has plenty of world-class scripts and workers. Why would we need your second-rate people?"

"You don't need us," Laurence said, "but we need you."

"I don't see why I should give you a chance." My father drummed his fingers more loudly against the desk. "Alto Incorporated only accepts the best, and you are not the best. There is no benefit you could possibly give us."

"I might be able to change your mind on that," Laurence said.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Laurence insisted. "Just let me send one of my employees to New York City for a couple of weeks. If he doesn't not impress you, then we won't bother you any longer."

"And who is this employee?"

Laurence laughed. "Trust me. When you see him, you'll know exactly who he is." He paused. "Just suffice it to say, he was quite well-known years ago, and he has quite the recognizable physique."

My father stopped his fingers from tapping against the desk. He grew still, and I could see the gears churning in the back of his brain. I too was wondering: who was this man that had been so well-known years ago? And why was Laurence so desperate to get him to New York City?

All fucking smart questions, but all questions with no answers.

My father did not say anything for a moment. And then he inclined his head.

"Very well," my father said. "When can we expect this man?"

"In a couple days," Laurence said, his voice suddenly eager. "We should have a flight scheduled for sometime next week, and he should arrive either next Thursday or Friday."

"Make it Wednesday and we have a deal."

Laurence did not say anything for a couple seconds, but then he voiced his agreement. Yet more chit-chat happened, but I didn't pay attention. Finally, my father hung up the phone and lifted his eyes to focus on me, slouched down in my chair.

"Now. For you, John." His voice was hard. "There's quite a lot we have to discuss about your recent... shall we say, endeavors in school."

I rolled my eyes.

Great. Just fucking great.

Here comes the fucking lecture.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, this chapter did not come out any sooner than the last one, and I'm sorry about that. I am, however, happier with this chapter than I was with the last one, so that is worth something.

One more quick note: If you're interested in more of Chad's perspective, check out the band The Script. All of the songs suit Chad to a T. I just discovered the band a few months ago and, listening to them now, I realized how many of their songs suit the Chad in my story. So if you want to see more into Chad's character, check them out!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, anyway, and please review?


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **You guys continue to surprise me. Over twenty-five reviews for that last chapter? Thanks so much to the following people who reviewed: **teakietower**, **Paramore4eva0602**, **Zoezora**, **holly **(anon), **AnnetteAnne**, **standOutx**, **zanessarobsten4ever **(anon), **LiveLaughLoveMusicAngel**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **eromdaer451QI**, **ranimohd91**, **Lucyyyyy **(anon), **caseybug14**, **lolz3** (anon), **S24 **(anon), **Girltech101**, **dtng4ever**, **swac-fan **(anon), **WowzersImBack**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **candymanlover11**, **TeddyLuver**, **Sonny days**, **highfivingjesus**, **animeaddict2323232**, **Maiqu**, **it rains when you're gone x**, **kaylinwriter14**, and **leoshunny1985**.

In your reviews, many of you complained about the vulgar language John, in particular, employed. I'm sorry; I didn't realize it would be as much of an issue as it ended up being. I won't cut it out entirely, because that's just the way John expresses himself, but I'll try to cut back more in later chapters.

* * *

Chapter Eight

_Jackie_

I threw my bag across the room, unable to stop myself from letting out a yell. I hurled myself across my room and fell on my bed's freshly laundered covers with an audible _thud. _Haylie followed after me, taking a seat calmly at my desk.

"Come on," Haylie said, trying and failing to suppress the amused tone in her voice. "It wasn't as bad as it could have been."

"Yes, it was!" I complained. "Did you see his face? He knew exactly what he was doing and he just wanted to push my buttons!" I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. "John Alto has to be the most obnoxious, frustrating boy I have ever met in my life. And that includes your cousin."

"My cousin is pretty obnoxious, isn't he?" Haylie asked.

"Yeah," I said, "but that's not the point, Haylie!"

Haylie laughed. "Then what is your point?"

"My point is that John is obnoxious," I said. "And I can't believe that he thought those lines would work on me. Do I look like an idiot?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Haylie open her mouth. "No, never mind. Don't answer that."

"Aw, fine. Ruin my fun." Haylie pouted, then got up. She sat down on the bed next to me. "So. What's got you distracted lately?"

I sighed. I should have known that distracting her with John Alto wouldn't work. Haylie was much too smart for that, and she knew exactly what I was up to. Distracting Haylie was almost impossible. Once she was on the trail, nothing would take her off it. And she was patient, but not that patient.

"Come on," Haylie wheedled. "Tell me."

I took a deep breath and keep staring at the ceiling. "Can you do me a favor first?"

"Sure."

"Look under my bed and grab me the book you see there? It looks like a journal."

Haylie obeyed my command. She laid back down on the bed after handing me the book, turning her face to mine. She propped her head up with her elbow.

"So. What's this journal for?"

I ran my fingers over the worn cover and clasp. "It was my mother's," I whispered, turning to look at Haylie. "It was about her year at _So Random. _You remember watching that show with me when we were nine?" I smiled. "Even then we thought it was rather ridiculous, but we couldn't stop watching the four seasons my mother let me watch."

"I remember, but what does this have to do with whatever's been bothering you?"

"Her year at _So Random _was also the year she met my father," I whispered. "This journal is entirely about my mom meeting Chad Dylan Cooper. My mother never told me anything about my father, but I found this journal when I was cleaning the attic a few weeks ago."

"Jackie—does this mean—"

"That my father is Chad Dylan Cooper?" I took a deep breath and nodded. "That's exactly what it means, Haylie. And I found an article a few weeks ago that says he's been missing for fifteen years." The itching began at the back of my eyes once more, and I fought to keep the tears down. "He left my mother to raise me alone. He disappeared and no one has seen him for more than a decade."

"Are you sure he's your father?" Haylie asked. "I mean, what if you're wrong?"

In response, I opened the journal and took out the picture tucked into the first few pages. I handed it to Haylie, watching as her eyes widened.

"He looks just like you," she breathed.

"Exactly."

She kept her eyes fixed on the picture. "But you have bits and pieces of your mother too," she whispered. "Like your hair and the bone structure in your face and her nose." She looked up at me. "But everything else? It's Chad Dylan Cooper."

"I'm sure he's my father," I whispered.

"Why did he leave?"

"I don't know. I haven't gotten that far in the journal yet," I said.

"Do you want to—you know, find him?"

That was a good question, and one that I didn't have an answer to. I returned to staring at the ceiling, then closed my eyes, trying to think. Did I want to find him again? Did I want to know why my mother couldn't even hear someone mention his name without breaking something? Did I want to know why my family was broken, falling apart at the seams?

Did I want to know him?

"I don't know," I said. "Part of me does, but the other part wonders... why he's gone. Why my mother can't mention him. Why he doesn't seem to care." A tear trickled down my cheek. "I don't know how things changed in the time that picture was taken and when they had me."

"Yeah," Haylie whispered. "You're wondering how a love like that just disappears. If they seemed so in love, how could it just turn to crap?"

I sat up. "That's exactly how I feel," I said. "How did you know?"

"Because my parents are getting a divorce," Haylie said. She didn't let me say anything before she continued. "I don't know why. They said it's just better for them. That it's better for me. But my father moved out and my mother mailed him the divorce papers last week."

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Haylie said. "No one knows except you." She dropped the picture of my parents on the bedside table and faced me. "I just don't understand. They seemed so in love a year ago, but now—it's all gone. And I haven't seen my father in a month."

Words failed me. I just reached over and wrapped my arms tightly around Haylie, tears sliding down my cheeks. To think that I had been so wrapped up in my own world that I couldn't see when my best friend was suffering... I wrapped my arms tighter around Haylie. She returned the hug, stroking my hair. If the sniffling from above me was any indication, she was crying too.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I should have been there for you."

"You had enough going on yourself," Haylie said. "You couldn't have been there for me. I didn't want anyone there for a while."

"Still—"

"Don't say it," Haylie warned. "No guilt-tripping, understand?"

I nodded. "Fine."

We hugged for a brief moment longer, then pulled away. Haylie's eyes were now dry, although her smile looked fainter than usual. I tried to return it, but my lips wavered. I pressed my lips together in a tight line, dropping my eyes to my lap.

"Come on," Haylie said, shoving me gently. "Let's not get depressed." I looked up just as she smiled. "Tell me what you read in that diary of your mother's. I want to know!"

"You know, the typical," I replied. "Sonny's the upstart young actress on the rival show, Chad's the jerky star of the drama show, and they like each other almost as soon as they see each other but don't admit it. It's all very Romeo and Juliet."

"I hope not!" Haylie said. "They did kill themselves!"

"They're ot entirely Romeo and Juliet," I said, shoving Haylie lightly. "Just a little bit like them with the rivalry. And they fight, but it's really just poorly-disguised flirting. And Chad pretends he doesn't care, but does sweet and kind things for her every once in a while, like dressing up as her first fan."

And conversation continued. Haylie wanted to know everything about my father and mother when they were young, and I told her all I could. I told her about their first meeting, the "peace picnic" (Haylie laughed for a good minute after that), their confrontations, and Chad dressing up as Sonny's fake fan for that episode of _So Random. _

"Is that it?" Haylie demanded when I stopped talking.

"That's all I've read," I said.

"Can we read more?"

I hesitated, bringing the journal closer to me. "I don't know."

"We don't have to if you don't want to," Haylie said, "but I just want to know more. Maybe if we read more, we can find out where your father is, if you want to know, and what happened to make them separate. Maybe we'll know how they got together in the first place."

It took a bit more wheedling, but I finally agreed. Before I could carefully open to the next entry in the journal—February 23—Haylie took it from me. She flicked through the book and stopped at a page in the middle, opening her mouth to read. I clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Haylie, we have to go in order!" I hissed.

"Why?" Haylie asked, taking my hand from her mouth. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does!" I insisted.

"No, it doesn't," Haylie said. "Reading it out of order won't change anything. You said you wanted to know how your parents got together, didn't you? Well, now you'll find out without taking months and months to read through this thing."

I opened my mouth to protest—there was no pressing reason why I had to read it in order, I just felt like I owed it to my parents' story—but Haylie didn't give me a chance. She simply opened the journal and began reading the entry for July 24, 2009.

_Dear Diary,_

_Tonight was the night. Tonight, everything changed between Chad and I._

_It's only been eight days since the interview with Gilroy Smith, but he apparently decided that he didn't want to wait to ask me out. It was actually very awkward, thinking about it now. I was actually going over to Mackenzie Falls to ask him about Chloe and Mackenzie—I know, I know, I just had to watch the show, I couldn't help it—and he thought I was talking about me and him. So he asked me out._

_We had our first date tonight. He was a perfect gentleman through the whole thing, surprising because he hardly ever showed that side of himself—at least never for a whole night. He even opened the doors for me, if that's believable. Who knew? The great Chad Dylan Cooper knows the meaning of the word "chivalry." We spent the night having fun, laughing and poking fun at each other, and to be honest, I was surprised at how comfortable it felt._

_Before I knew it, we were in Chad's car on our way back to my apartment. And I didn't know what came over me, but my mouth opened before I could stop it._

"_Hey, Chad?" I asked._

"_Sonny?" Chad said in return, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "What's up?"_

_"I don't want this night to end," I whispered, the gentle breeze ruffling my dark hair away from my face. "Can we go somewhere else?"_

_Chad's lips quirked in a smile. "Where?"_

_"Um..." I spoke of the first place that came into my mind. "Lookout Mountain?"_

_Chad couldn't stop himself from turning to look at me for a brief moment, before focusing his eyes back on the road. "You do know that's a date place," Chad said. "And couples don't always just look at the stars, you know, and try to break up other couples."_

_I looked down at my hands. "Yes, I know that," I said, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. "I know what people do on dates. And I know what people do on Lookout Mountain. I just want to go there, all right? It's sweet. And romantic."  
_

"_All right," Chad agreed. "We can go."_

"_Thank you, Chad!" I said, smiling._

_We didn't say anything more until Chad and I reached the top of Lookout Mountain. It was thankfully deserted—it was still fairly early, not yet ten o'clock—and the stars twinkled brightly above both of us as Chad turned off the car. I stared at them for a moment, then turned my attention to Chad._

_"So," Chad said. "Why'd you want to come here?"_

"_Because it's beautiful," I said, looking back at the stars. "The stars are so bright. It's quiet. No one's around, and you can just feel the cool air against your face. It's free." I looked at him. "You know that feeling where everything just seems right and nothing can compare to it? And you just want the moment to go on forever?"_

"_You mean, every time I start acting?" Chad quipped. "Yes, of course."_

_I laughed and hit him on the shoulder. "Very funny," I said. "But you do know what I mean." I inhaled deeply. "The air is so fresh. Down in the city, in the midst of things, it's kind of stuffy, but here... it's almost like Wisconsin's air. I feel comfortable. Free."  
_

"_Even though I'm here?"_

"_Believe it or not, what makes it better is that you are here," I said, my cheeks heating up with the pressure of my admission. Sure, we had admitted what we felt for each other on Gotcha with Gilroy Smith, and he had asked me out shortly afterward, but we hadn't spoken of our feelings much before then. It made me feel almost... dizzy, my head spinning with the weight of my words._

"_Does it really, Sonny?" Chad asked._

_"Yes, Chad. It does." I smiled. "Really."_

"_Well, then I guess I can admit that I've been here many times before, but it just feels right when I'm with you," Chad said._

_I looked down, my cheeks heating up. If this was the famous Chad Dylan Cooper charm at full force, there was no wonder that he had girls falling for him left and right. My heart beat fast inside my chest, and I fought to keep my smile from taking over my face completely. Finally, I managed to look up._

"_I'm glad I came here tonight, Chad," I said. "This night has been... special. Unforgettable."_

"_In a different way from the last time we came up here, I hope," Chad said. _

_I laughed. "Definitely." _

_We both looked at each other for a moment, bright smiles on both of our faces, and then something came over me. I'm not sure what it was—maybe it was where we were, maybe it was Chad's deep blue eyes staring deep into my own—but one minute, I was on my side of the car, and the next, I was leaning over the seat and pressing my lips to Chad's._

_The kiss only lasted a few seconds. But when I broke away, I saw that Chad's eyes were sparkling more than usual, and he had his usual grin on his face._

"_I always knew you wanted to kiss me," he said._

_I laughed. "And you didn't want to kiss me? Please. You practically begged me to kiss you when you guest-starred on So Random!."_

"_I did not."_

_"Yes, you did."_

_Chad rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever you say, Sonny," he said. "Anyway, it's late. I'd better get you home."_

"_Okay," I said, but secretly—I didn't want the night to end. _

_Even now, an hour after Chad brought me back to my apartment, I wish we were back together on that mountain, looking up at the stars. Tonight had to rank among the Top 10 moments of my life here in Hollywood, among them other moments I had with Chad... like when he danced with me at the prom. Like when he saved me from humiliation. Like when we admitted that we finally had feelings for each other._

_I'm not sure where this relationship will lead. All I know is that I might be falling in love with Chad Dylan Cooper. And just between you and me, Diary, I think he's falling in love with me too._

_But I guess I'll just have to wait and see._

_Until later,_

_Sonny._

"Wow," I breathed.

"I know," Haylie said. "Your mom sure is long-winded, isn't she?"

"Haylie," I said, hitting her lightly. "This is serious."

Sonny's entry did not clear up anything in my mind regarding why Chad left, but regardless, it was still important. It showed me that Sonny and Chad really did care for each other, that there was a reason why they got together. It was a typical "hate turns into like turns into love" story—one that apparently had an unhappy ending. Maybe they were more like Romeo and Juliet than I thought.

"Yeah, I'm aware," Haylie said. "Your parents really loved each other, didn't they?"

"Apparently," I said. "Although that doesn't clear up why they separated." I looked down. "Nor does it give us an idea of where my father is now."

"Should we read more?"

I hesitated. I almost said "yes," but then... it wouldn't be right. Going to the end of their story, before knowing how happy they were, before knowing how they got to that happy point in their lives, wouldn't be right. I had to know everything, right from the very beginning.

"No," I said. "I think this is something I need to do on my own."

"But—"

"Please," I begged. "Haylie, I'll tell you everything that happens. I promise I will, but I just feel like this story—this journal—is meant for me and my mother alone. I need to discover everything alone." I managed a small smile. "It is my past, after all."

Haylie nodded. "I understand."

"Thank you."

I reached over and hugged her. When I let my arms drop from around her, she fixed me with a sharp gaze.

"I might not read the rest of the journal," Haylie said, "but I am going to help you figure out what happened. I might not ever find out what happened with my parents, but at least we can find out what happened with yours. I'll ask around, see if anyone has heard of Chad Dylan Cooper." She smiled. "I mean, we live on the Upper East Side. How difficult can it be to find some washed-up actor from fifteen years ago?"

I laughed. "You're the best friend a girl could ever ask for," I said.

"Oh, tell me something new. I already knew _that._"

That broke the rather somber mood I had been in. I laid back on my bed, putting my mother's journal by the bedside table. For the rest of the night, Haylie and I talked about everything under the sun, from her parents to my parents to John (arrogant jerk that he was) and schoolwork. We had a pillow fight, laughing so loud that my mother at one point—late at night, when Haylie had called her parents and gotten permission to stay over—had to come up to ask us to settle down.

We finally did, both of us curled up together on my bed, like we had done since we were three years old at our first slumber party.

"Thanks," I whispered to Haylie.

"You're welcome," she said sleepily.

And then I slipped off to sleep, feeling more peaceful than I had in days.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, this is more of a filler chapter, and I apologize for that. However, many of you asked for more of Sonny/Chad, so I decided to satisfy your requests. Next chapter, we have a return of John's perspective, but never fear. Another character will be returning, and I think you can _all _guess who that will be. (wink) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review?

Hopefully the next one should be up sooner! (And I know I said that before, but this time I mean it. After all, SWAC is coming back on Sunday, and that should give me some inspiration.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Oh my God, I'm so sorry that I haven't updated this sooner. I really have no excuse whatsoever. Hopefully people still want to read this!

Thanks go to the following people who reviewed: **randomevil** (anon), **have-a-cookie**, **ParamoreWorshipper**, **WowzersImBack**, **Zoezora**, **obsessedANDaddicted1**, **LiveLaughLoveMusicAngel**, **Sonny days**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **highfivingjesus**, **kaylinwriter14**, **luckyme123**, **eromdaer451QI**, **kavi **(anon), **caseybug14**, **Maiqu**, **ranimohd91**, **lolz3**, **it rains when you're gone x**, **zanessarobsten4ever **(anon), and **RitaMarie**!

* * *

Chapter Nine

_John_

I surveyed myself in the mirror, making sure each strand of my dark hair was perfectly in place. I adjusted the cuffs on my dark blue dress shirt, then turned away from the mirror. Jacob, standing at the door, inclined his head as my eyes fell on him.

"Mr. John," Jacob said. "Your father wants to see you."

"I take it the mysterious visitor has arrived?" I drawled. "And my father wants to parade me out in front of him like some prized show dog."

"I wouldn't use quite those words, Mr. John," Jacob said, which was just Jacob's roundabout way of saying that I was right but he didn't want to admit it. "Your father cares for you deeply, and besides, your mother will be there as well. You haven't seen her in about a month, isn't that correct?"

Ah, yes.

My damn mother, Brigette.

She thought that she could just traipse in and out of my life as she pleased, pretending that she gave a crap about my life when all she _really _cared about were the latest fashions. She jetted all around the world—Milan, Paris, London, Amsterdam—and only came home one month out of three, if I was lucky. She threw a fit about my "questionable habits," as she called them, but did she stick around to do a damn thing about them?

No, of course not. That job was left to my father, who was much too busy with his company to care much about me. The lecture from less a week ago was halfhearted, hardly even a lecture at all, because he was much too concerned about the mysterious man arriving in New York City to actually care much about what I was doing in school.

Not that I cared.

I loved my freedom, and my father was not about to take it away from me.

"That's correct," I finally said to Jacob, taking the suit jacket he held out for me. I shrugged it on. "I didn't even know she was coming. Let me guess: she wants to make sure I 'stay out of trouble.'"

"Yes, that is it," Jacob said.

I rolled my eyes. "I wish my mother would spare me that bullshit."

Jacob said something in return, but I didn't pay much attention. The man from London was about to arrive, and my father wanted me in place before he was ushered in. My father was already stressed enough as it was, and if I was late, he'd probably snap. And normally I'd want to piss him off, but even I was curious about the man we were meeting.

I made my way down the hall, my freshly shined shoes clipping against the floor. Jacob trotted along behind me, thankfully keeping his mouth shut until we reached my father's study. Then he just smiled at me and opened the doors, leading me into the room.

"John!" Brigette breathed, standing up with one fluid movement. Her short and colorful skirt swished against her legs as she walked over and wrapped her arms around me. "Oh, John," she whispered into my hair. "I've missed you so much!"

_Like hell she did._

I put my arms around Brigette for a brief instant, then backed away.

"You too," I said, looking anywhere but at Brigette.

"All right, enough of this," my father said briskly. "Laurence's supposedly well-known actor is arriving in five minutes, and we have to be ready for him when he does." He brought his hands together. "Positions, everyone!"

_Of course. We're my father's prized little show dogs, ready to look adorable and obedient and wag our tails._

I slouched against the wall I was standing next to, crossing my arms over my chest, and ignored the pointed looks I received from both my father and Brigette. My father looked like he was about to blow a fuse, and Brigette—well, she just looked disappointed. Not that I should be much of a surprise to her. She knew damn well what type of person I was, and she also knew that I couldn't care less.

"Mr. Alto," Jacob said, sticking his head through the door five minutes later. "He's here."

My father shot me one last stern look. I rolled my eyes and stood up straight, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. He seemed to realize that was all he was going to get from me, because my father turned back to Jacob.

"Let him in," he said.

"Very well, sir."

Jacob's head withdrew from the doorway. A moment later, the doors swung open, and a man stepped inside, looking perfectly at ease amidst all the expensive surroundings. Brigette let out a gasp, and my father took a step forward.

"Hello," the man said without even a blink. He extended a hand. "My name is Chad Dylan Cooper, and I am here to speak to Marlon Alto about Alto Incorporated."

"Chad Dylan Cooper," Brigette breathed, taking a step forward. "It's been _years._"

"Almost sixteen, to be exact," Chad said and smiled.

"I'm Marlon Alto," my father said, his hand mechanically reaching out to grasp Chad's. They shared a rather limp handshake, and then my father's hand fell back to his side. "Laurence wasn't being facetious when he said you were quite well-known years ago."

"No, he wasn't," Chad agreed. "Although I have to admit, I'm surprised you remember me. My major role was—"

"Mackenzie on _Mackenzie Falls_," my father interrupted. "Yes, I know."

"What brings you back to the United States?" Brigette asked, seating herself in one of the three chairs set out before my father's desk. She looked over her shoulder at him, beckoning for him to join her on the seats. "You've been in London for almost sixteen years. No one has heard from you in years, ever since—"

Chad sat down in front of Brigette. He cut off Brigette's spiel before she could get going.

"Ever since I left," Chad continued. Judging from Brigette's expression, that wasn't what she was going to say. "Yes, I haven't been seen since then. But Laurence told me about this deal, and I couldn't turn it down. It's a good opportunity for the company."

My father gave me a look and gestured for me to take the seat next to Chad. He walked around to his desk and sat down behind it, steepling his fingers together and resting his chin on them. I reluctantly flopped down on the seat and waited for my father to speak.

"I'm glad to have you here, Chad," my father said.

"Thank you."

"But I have to wonder." He surveyed Chad, looking rather skeptical. "Why did you suddenly decide to return to the States? If it had been a question of the company alone, I doubt you would have come. After so many years out of the public eye, I'd imagine you wouldn't want to reveal yourself."

"The company is important to me," Chad said.

I rolled my eyes. He was terrible at skirting the question.

"Very well," my father said. "I see I'm not going to get a straight answer from you on this issue."

"But can you tell us why you left in the first place?" Brigette couldn't help interjecting. She leaned over in her seat, fixing Chad with a stern stare. "It must have been a terribly important reason if you are only coming back now."

"It's complicated."

"We have time for you to explain," my father said. "I have to admit that I am curious about this answer too. Why did you leave? And perhaps more pertinently, why have you come back?"

"I left because of a personal issue," Chad said. He looked quite uncomfortable, looking at anything but my father and Brigette. "I would prefer not to get into it, but it was something of the utmost importance. You could say love was on the line."

Brigette smiled. "So it was a girl?"

"You could say that."

My father nodded. He didn't say anything for a moment, but then let out a laugh. He leaned across his desk, Chad seeming to have earned his respect with his answer. If there was anything my father valued above all else, it was a diplomatic spirit and a determination to not reveal more than necessary. Chad's guarded answers appealed to him.

"All right," my father said. "Let's get right to the business, shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Chad replied.

"But first, let me introduce you to my wife and son," he said. "I'm afraid I neglected to do that when you first came in, because I was so shocked at your arrival." He gestured to his wife. "This is my beautiful wife, Brigette Alto. She is a fashion designer and a jetsetter. In fact, she spent the past week in Milan."

"Milan. Really," Chad said. "I went there when I was still doing _Mackenzie Falls. _It's quite stunning."

"Oh. Yes," Brigette said. "And the fashions are impeccable."

"Indeed," my father agreed. He gestured to me. "And this is my son, John Alto. He is a junior at Pendell Preparatory School."

Chad's face went white. His mouth opened slightly and he didn't even seem to register the hand I had offered him to shake. It seemed to take quite a bit of effort for him to return his face to normal, but even then, there was _something _in his face and eyes. Something not quite right.

"Chad? Are you quite all right?" Brigette asked, putting a hand on Chad's arm. "You looked white."

"I'm fine," Chad said. "Just—I've heard about Pendell, that's all." He smiled at my father. "Thank you for introducing me to your family. They're wonderful."

My father did not press the issue and neither did my mother, but I knew that they would be discussing it as soon as Chad left for the day. They turned the conversation back to business, which was my cue to tune everything out.

Why the hell had he reacted that way to the name of my school? It made no sense. If he had been in London for almost sixteen years, then how could he possibly have heard of Pendell's? And why would it be so terrible for him to think about?

It was a fucking mystery.

But it didn't have anything to do with me. It was something between my parents and Chad—and that was only if Chad actually told them what bothered him about the school. Which I doubted he would do. The way his face turned white and he refused to answer their questions... it all meant Chad was hiding something. But as long as it didn't hinder my father from making a deal with Chad's company, I didn't give a crap.

Besides, the backlash when my father found out Chad had been keeping something important from him would be pretty damn hilarious to witness. And there would definitely be a backlash.

I couldn't _wait._

* * *

School sucked.

That was the plain and simple truth. It sucked balls. The only things that made it bearable were the hot girls and the thought that I had less than two years before I would be out of the hell-hole and doing something more important with my life. But that Thursday, it was pretty unbearable. It was hilarious to see my female friends squeal about how I had met Chad Dylan Cooper, though.

"Yeah, he came in last night," I bragged. "He's going to work for my father."

"I can't believe that," a freshman girl said.

"He's been missing for fifteen years," another girl said. "Why would he suddenly come back?"

"I don't know," I said. "All I know is that Chad Dylan Cooper is working for my father. Do you know how much money I could get if I 'accidentally' leaked the story to _People_?"

"It just makes no sense," Jason said. "Why the hell would a world-famous actor leave in the first place? And come back just to work for your dad's company?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't he go back to Hollywood?"

I shrugged. "Don't ask me. I just know that he's here."

"I wonder if Sonny Munroe knows," the first girl mused. "I heard they had something going on when they were young. And then Sonny went to London and came back with a child in tow. And that was why they separated, because Sonny got pregnant by another guy."

"Please," Lydia—one of my many lays this year—said. "That's what _National Inquirer _said."

"And _National Inquirer _is a viable source of information!"

None of us could help it; we all burst out laughing. I couldn't stop, not even when Haylie pushed her way through the crowd of people surrounding me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. "Have you finally gone insane?"

"Not quite. But if you want me to go crazy..."

Haylie rolled her eyes. "Don't even start with me," she said. "You already torture Jackie enough." She glanced around at the crowd of people surrounding me. "What are you even talking about anyway?"

"We were talking about the man who has started to work for my father's company," I responded, leaning back against the table. "He's quite famous, you know. My father can't wait to work with him."

"Stop skirting the question," Haylie said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Who can't your father wait to work with?"

"Someone who has been missing for about sixteen years," I said. I waited, biding my time. Something I couldn't quite place flickered in Haylie's eyes—something like hope and understanding—but it was gone before I could place it. She tapped her foot on the ground as she waited for me to answer.

Finally, I spoke, a smile curling my lips.

"Chad Dylan Cooper," I said, "is working with my father."

Haylie uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her side. Her eyes widened and she took a step forward. She looked as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing, couldn't believe that I was actually telling the truth.

"Are you serious?"

"Pretty damn serious," I said.

"Oh my God." She glanced around at the crowds of people, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I—I've got to go."

She turned and fled out of the crowd. I watched her go, eyebrows furrowing.

What the hell was that all about?

* * *

_Jackie_

I ran my fingers along the edge of my mother's journal, placed securely in my bag. I stared out of the window of Lilian's convertible, tuning out the sound of Lilian singing along to some terrible rap song. The journal was rough against my fingers, almost beckoning me to open it and read more.

But I hadn't read any more of the journal since I told Haylie about my parents. I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because I had opened myself up, and now the secret wasn't just my own. Now someone else knew. It was out there, open, unable to be taken back. Before I felt it was my own little secret, but now it wasn't.

I was illogical, I knew it was, but somehow I felt as though I had betrayed my mother's trust when I showed it to someone else. This was my _mother's journal_, about my father, and I had just shared it with someone out of the blue.

"Jackie," Lilian said, waving one hand in front of my face. "Jackie, you okay?"

I shook myself out of my thoughts. "What? Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine," Lilian said. "And what are you fingering in your bag, anyway? You haven't taken your hand out of there since we got in the car."

I quickly withdrew my hand. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

I smiled at Lilian and started to sing along to the next song that came on, even though I only knew about half the words and the song was terrible. But I couldn't keep my mind from wandering to the diary. Still there were so many questions and not nearly enough time to answer them all.

Lilian pulled the car into the parking lot of the smoothie place a few blocks away from the school. Even though it took about half an hour to get less than half a mile, Lilian wanted to show off her new car. Not practical in New York, but "practical" was not the word that would come to mind when someone thought of Lilian. It wouldn't even be in the top 100 words to describe Lilian, to be honest.

We both entered the smoothie place, only to be immediately besieged by Haylie and Maci. The latter dragged Lilian over to the counter to order low-fat fruit smoothies, but Haylie made us stay where we were.

"I have to tell you something," she said.

"Haylie?" I surveyed Haylie's face. She looked simultaneously excited and nervous. "Haylie, what's going on?"

Haylie glanced around the room, noticing Lilian's glance over her shoulder at us. She grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the girls' bathroom. She pulled us both inside and sequestered ourselves into a stall, not even giving me a chance to respond before she started rambling.

"I'm not even sure what this means, but I was listening to John this afternoon, and he said something that I think that might be true, but I'm not sure. But I think you have to know—"

"Know what?"

Haylie almost smiled. "This is huge."

"What's huge? Tell me."

"Chad Dylan Cooper is here," Haylie blurted out.

The words did not register in my mind. I kept my eyes on Haylie; it took me a moment to get the next word out of my mouth.

"W-what?"

"He's here," Haylie breathed. "He's working for John's dad."

"My father is—"

"In New York."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter sucks. I know it does, and I'm SO sorry for this. Next chapter should be better, though, because it's been in my head for ages. It's going to be from SONNY'S PERSPECTIVE, and it should be up sometime this weekend if all goes well.

Please review?


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Thanks go to the following people who reviewed: **cookie monster **(anon), **Chel08**, **highfivingjesus**, **leoshunny1985**, **(^_^)** (anon), **zanessarobsten4ever**, **it rains when you're gone x**, **Kerropiyvonne**, **FanFicSam**, **awesum!! **(anon), **Gabbie Wabbie**, **it'sapartyintheUK**, **Willow Sage Rose**, **lolz3** (anon), **love-cdc**, **caseybug14**, **Maiqu**, **listenWITHyourHEART**, **LiveLaughLoveMusicAngel**, **S24 **(anon), **WowzersImBack**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, and **TeddyLuver**.

The song featured in this chapter is "Already Gone" by Kelly Clarkson. Warning: tissues might be necessary.

* * *

Chapter Ten

_Remember all the things we wanted.  
__Now all our memories, they're haunted.  
__We were always meant to say goodbye.  
__Even with our fists held high,  
__it never would've worked out right.  
__We were never meant for do or die.  
__I didn't want us to burn out.  
__I didn't come here to hurt you,  
__now I can't stop._

_I want you to know that it doesn't matter  
__where we take this road.  
__Someone's gotta go.  
__And I want you to know you couldn't have loved me better.  
__But I want you to move on,  
__so I'm already gone._

**March 3, 2010**

Sonny stepped off the plane, her carry-on bag slung across her shoulder. She didn't have to look very far in order to find Chad; he was right by the terminal, a bright smile on his face and his arms open. Sonny let a smile cross her features as she flung herself at him.

He caught her easily, effortlessly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. After months of filming for her first movie, she missed the feeling of Chad's arms around her, holding her tight and secure against him. She missed his bright smile and the way she felt so comfortable in his arms, but finally—she was home. And she couldn't have felt any better.

"I missed you," she whispered, pulling away slightly to look Chad in the eyes.

"Me too," he replied. "You were gone far too long."

"It was only two months," she teased.

"But two of the longest months of my life," he said.

She laughed. "Same."

Chad held her closer to him. He removed one hand from her waist, tilting Sonny's face up to meet his, and then pressed his lips to hers. Sonny melted into the kiss—_it had been too long, far too long—_and circled her arms around his neck. She pressed herself closer to him, their lips moving together fluidly, like they had not just spent more than two months apart.

But the kiss could not last forever, and they pulled away. Sonny kept her eyes on Chad's and smiled at him.

"And I've definitely missed that."

Chad agreed. "How about we continue in the limo? Geraldo has already picked up your luggage," he said, the hint in his voice unable to be missed.

"Okay," Sonny said.

She slipped her hand into Chad's as they made their way out of the airport, and her customary smile spread across her face as she headed outside to the limo waiting for her.

She was back home in Hollywood with Chad: the perfect reason to smile.

* * *

**March 15, 2010**

Sonny let herself into her apartment, dragging Chad into the living room with her. The lights were all off, the moonlight bathing the room in a soft glow. When Sonny flipped the lights on, brightness invaded the room, illuminating everything. Chad shut the door behind him and took Sonny in his arms from behind.

"Chad," Sonny laughed, turning around to face him. "You're just lucky my mother isn't home."

"You told me she wouldn't be," Chad said, kissing her quickly. "You said we would be alone for the night."

"Yeah," Sonny said, ducking out of Chad's arms. "I did say that, but just so we could watch a _movie. _We haven't sat down to just watch a movie in ages."

"But there are so many other things to do," Chad whispered. "So many more _fun _things to do."

Chad pulled Sonny toward him, crushing their bodies together as his lips met hers. Sonny let herself be taken in by the kiss, let herself just _feel _the way Chad's lips moved against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands ran gently up and down her sides, then pulled her closer. Chad took a few steps backward, bringing Sonny with him.

"Chad," Sonny said, breaking away for a minute. "Are you—"

"If you are," Chad replied.

Sonny hesitated, staring up into Chad's deep blue eyes, full of want and need and desire and love, and found her answer.

"Okay."

Chad nodded. He put his hands on each side of Sonny's face and gave her a searing kiss. Then he took her hand and led her through the living room, down the hall, and into Sonny's darkened bedroom. Sonny pulled Chad into a kiss and led him to the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light.

* * *

**March 16, 2010**

Sonny stretched and rolled over on the bed, looking up at Chad. His eyes slowly fluttered open, a bright smile emerging on his face as he saw her.

"I love you," she whispered.

Chad smiled and pulled Sonny to him. "I love you too."

* * *

**May 10, 2010**

The lights were blinding. Sonny ran her hand through her hair, trying not to pay attention to the lights shining in her eyes, making it hard to see. She leaned against a wall and closed her eyes, wishing that she could just go back to bed.

For a couple of weeks now, she had been tired _all the time_. She felt like she was coming down with something, but there were times where she felt fine. In the mornings especially, she had been sick, but it hadn't been every day. It would probably go away in a few weeks—or so she hoped.

Sonny placed a hand on her stomach, looking around to see if anyone was around. No one was. Everyone else was on stage, rehearsing for a new sketch, but she told Tawni she needed to take a breath. Which wasn't a lie. She definitely needed a break, but the worst part was that she wasn't sure if it would do any good, if her hunch was correct.

Two months. She was suspicious last month, when she missed her period, but she thought it was nothing. After all, she was under a lot of stress lately, what with the premiere of her new movie and returning to _So Random. _It wasn't unusual for a woman to miss her period because of stress, but her second period had come and gone.

It couldn't be.

She couldn't be.

_But I could, that's the entire problem. I could._

Sonny wrapped her arms around her stomach and turned toward the wall. She blinked back the tears, trying to keep it together. She had to keep it together.

"Sonny?" Marshall asked, tapping her on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Um, I'm fine," Sonny said, forcing a smile onto her face as she turned around. "I just—I forgot that there was something I needed to do for my mother today. Is it all right if I leave for half an hour to get it done? I'll be back as soon as possible."

Marshall smiled. "Of course it's fine, Sonny. Take as long as you need."

Sonny nodded and walked away from the set. Her role on _Just Like Her _had one incredibly useful perk: after being so successful in the movie, Marshall was more inclined to give her whatever she wanted. She was apparently "the star" of _So Random _now.

Ha.

And look at her now.

Running through the halls, trying to stop the flood of tears from coming down her cheeks. She ran out of the building—right smack into Chad.

"Sonny!" Chad said, reaching a hand out to steady her. "Sonny? What's the rush?" He took a good long look at her. "Wait, why are you crying? Sonny?"

"I—I'm fine," Sonny said. "I just—need to go do something. I'm sorry."

Sonny pushed her way past Chad. She didn't bother wiping the tears from her eyes, not until she reached her car and put the keys in the ignition. Then she wiped her tears away angrily, turned her car on, and headed for the nearest store.

Ten minutes later, Sonny stood in the bathroom she shared with Tawni, pacing back and forth. She wrung a hat together in her hands (she had used it to disguise her identity; what a scandal it would have been if someone had seen her coming out of a shop with a pregnancy test!) and waited. The clock wound down, seemingly slower and slower each minute.

She paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. She dropped the hat on the toilet seat and rubbed her arms, still pacing.

The little timer dinged on the counter.

_Oh. God._

She was going to vomit, she knew she was. She turned toward the counter and walked over, unable to look at the pregnancy test until the last possible moment. She looked down, then closed her eyes before she could see the results.

Another thirty seconds passed before her nausea subsided enough for her to look down.

_Pregnant_, she read.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

No, she had to have read it wrong. Sonny closed her eyes, screwed her eyelids together tightly, counted to ten, and wished with all of her might that she had read it wrong.

"I'm not pregnant," she whispered. "I command myself _not _to be pregnant."

She opened her eyes.

The word still blared from the test.

_Pregnant._

"Oh, God."

Sonny barely had time to wrench open the toilet seat before she threw up.

–

She knew she had to leave.

She couldn't stay in Hollywood and have a baby. Sure, she loved it. She loved acting. She loved being able to live her dream, but now her dream was shot to hell. The baby—God, it felt so strange to say that—the baby had changed everything.

If she stayed, she would have to quit _So Random_, because no one wanted a pregnant teen on their show. It would bring down the ratings and, because of her, the show would be canceled. She could not have that on her shoulders. She wouldn't have that on her shoulders. She would have to talk to Marshall tonight and tell him that she quit.

And that wasn't even mentioning Chad.

She couldn't burden Chad with a _baby. _Chad deserved to have an opportunity to be in the spotlight—more so than he already was. If there was anything she learned at all from those teen pregnancy shows she had watched back in Wisconsin, it was that teenage relationships never last if a baby comes into the picture. No, she knew it was better to break it off now than have them resent each other later.

Sonny walked slowly into the dressing room she shared with Tawni. She felt numb, like all of her tears had been exhausted. She couldn't cry any more if she tried. She couldn't yell, she couldn't scream, she couldn't even say a word.

She had to leave. And she had to leave now.

She couldn't face Tawni or Nico or Grady or Marshall. She certainly couldn't face Chad. If she did—if she faced any of them—she'd tell them the truth. And damn it, she knew that she couldn't do that. She couldn't tell them the truth, because then they'd ask her to stay.

And she couldn't stay.

Sonny walked over to her side of the dressing room and took her bag. She began filling it up with all of her stuff, throwing it all inside haphazardly. She had to be fast. Rehearsal would be ending in a couple minutes, which meant that soon Tawni would be coming back into the dressing room.

She supposed she was lucky that most of her stuff was centered in a small area. She only went into Tawni's side of the room in order to grab a jacket she had left on the couch, along with some makeup Tawni had "borrowed" and not returned. But it only took about fifteen minutes to pack up all of her stuff. She was probably forgetting a couple of things, but they weren't important.

Sonny stood at the threshold of the dressing room. This would be the last time she would see it. The last time she would see Tawni's mirror, covered with pictures of Tawni. The last time she would see Zora's vent, closed at the moment. The last time she would look at the small sink in the corner and remember the time she had tried to comfort Tawni after she had stabbed herself with the fake bee stinger.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

She turned and walked away from the dressing room, that site of so many memories. She headed for the prop house, but she didn't get that far.

"Sonny?"

She closed her eyes and cursed inside her head.

So much for getting away unnoticed.

"Tawni," Sonny said. For the second time that day, Sonny forced a smile on her face as she turned around. "What's up?"

"I could ask you that question," Tawni said, taking a step forward. "What are you doing?"

"I... I don't know how to say this," Sonny said.

"Just say it," Tawni demanded.

"I'm leaving."

"What?" Tawni took another step forward, her face registering her shock. "Why?"

"I just have to," Sonny said. "I can't stay here." Her smile faltered and disappeared. "I'm going back to Wisconsin."

"But why can't you stay?" Tawni asked. "You love it here."

"Yes, I do, but—"

"But what? Just tell me."

"I'm pregnant."

Tawni didn't say anything. She seemed to be examining Sonny's face, to make sure that she was telling the truth. When Sonny blinked back her tears, that was when she knew. Tawni came even closer to her, looking as if she wanted to comfort Sonny but had no idea how to go about doing it.

"Oh," was all she could say. "Is it Chad's?"

"Of course it's Chad's," Sonny snapped. "Who else would it be?"

Tawni shrugged. "I don't know. Are you going to tell him?"

"No, of course not," Sonny said. She spoke over Tawni when she opened her mouth. "No. I can't burden him with something like this. This is all my fault, and I am not going to bring him down with me. I have to leave. I can't... I can't face anyone right now."

"Oh, Sonny," Tawni said softly. "I—can't you stay?"

"And what? Be the pregnant girl on _So Random_?" Sonny asked. "No, I can't stay. I have to leave before the tabloids find out."

"But Chad—"

"—doesn't need to know."

Sonny threw her arms around Tawni's neck. After a second of stiffness, Tawni relaxed and hugged Sonny back tightly.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I can't change your mind," Tawni said. "You'll write?"

"I'll try," Sonny whispered. She took a step back. "But don't tell Chad, okay? He can't know."

Tawni nodded.

"Thank you. You're a good friend," Sonny said.

Sonny started to make her way down the hall, going back the way she came. She couldn't go to the prop house now, because Nico and Grady would be there. It was hard enough, looking at Tawni's disappointed and shocked face, but Nico, Grady, Zora...

She couldn't.

"Wait!" Tawni called.

Sonny turned. "What?"

"I'll miss you."

A watery smile spread across Sonny's face. "Me too, Tawni."

–

"You've reached Connie Munroe. I can't answer the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I'll respond as soon as possible. If you're Sonny, I'll be back in Hollywood by Friday."

"Hey, Mom." Sonny's voice broke. "I know that you're busy with Lily and Dad, but I need to tell you this. I'm pregnant." Sonny paused for a moment, unable to speak. Her voice, when she returned to the message, was wavery. "I'm so, so sorry, Mom. But I'm leaving Hollywood tonight. I should be back in Wisconsin by Thursday at the latest. Probably even tomorrow. We can figure out what we're doing then."

She almost ended the message, but then stopped her finger from pressing the "end" button.

"I love you," Sonny breathed. "I hope you'll forgive me. Bye, Mom."

_Click._

Sonny let the phone fall from her hands.

* * *

**May 23, 2010**

She stared at her phone.

**25 MISSED CALLS.**

Sonny pressed a few buttons, then put the phone to her ear.

"_Sonny_," Chad's voice issued from the speakers. "_Sonny. What's going on? Why haven't you answered any of my calls? The last time I saw you... you were in tears, and now you're gone. Why? Where are you? Sonny, please answer me. You've been gone for almost two weeks, and no one's heard from you. Marshall... told me you quit. Why?_" His voice broke. "_I love you, Sonny. Please answer me._"

The line went dead. Sonny almost clicked on the next message, but her tears obscured her vision. She put her phone on the end table and curled up in a ball in her favorite comfortable chair, but even that chair did not bring any comfort.

Her eyes were drawn to the ultrasound photos tapped to the bulletin board in her room. Sonny rubbed her hand over her stomach as she stared at them. She closed her eyes as her mother came up behind her, settling a hand on her shoulder.

"Sonny, are you all right?"

"No," Sonny whispered and looked up at her mother. "Mom, I can't stay here."

Connie sat down on the arm of Sonny's chair and ran a hand through Sonny's hair. "Why not?"

"Because this will be the first place Chad will look," Sonny said. "This will be the first place anyone would look. The tabloids, the paparazzi, Marshall, everyone." She looked up at her mother. "I can't subject anyone to this. I have to go."

"Sonny, honey—"

"Don't try to stop me," Sonny whispered. "I'm going whether you like it or not. But I don't know where to go, so it would be helpful if you'd tell me where I could stay."

Connie closed her eyes and opened them. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Sonny said. She stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, then met her mother's eyes. "Mom, I'm not your little girl anymore. I'm pregnant. I'm going to be a mother myself, and I have to do what I feel is best."

"Is there anything I can say to make you stay?"

"No."

"Then..." Connie stopped. "Then you can stay with my cousin in London until the baby is born. If this is what you feel you have to do as a mother, I can't stop you. And I'd rather I know exactly where you are and what you're doing."

"Thank you, Mom."

Sonny launched herself into her mother's arms. She wished more than anything else in the entire world that she could just stay here, wrapped up in her mother's arms, forever, letting the whole world pass her by.

But that was impossible now.

* * *

**July 11, 2010**

Sonny walked down the streets of London, setting a hand over her stomach. She rubbed small circles on the small bump there as she made her way back to her small apartment. It would be nice to be back at home, she thought as her head ached.

It was strange to be living on her own, but it felt so much better. Her mother's cousin, Mavis, was kind enough to take her in, but it had not been very comfortable. Especially when her cousin was expecting a baby herself. That added a third child to their family, as her cousin had two-year-old twin boys who couldn't help running around and otherwise being loud.

Sonny had just been in the way, so she had taken some money and gotten an apartment on her own. It wasn't ideal—it was rather cramped—but it fit her.

And it was her own.

Sonny reached her apartment building. As she walked inside, the doorman flagged her down.

"Hey, Martin," Sonny said. "What's up?"

"Hey, Sonny," Martin said. He put an arm over her shoulder as she headed to the elevator. "Someone came by to see you today."

Sonny didn't even stop. "Let me guess. Mavis?"

"No," Martin said. "It was someone I didn't recognize, but he talked with an American accent."

"An American accent?" Sonny stopped in her tracks and looked at Martin. Her heart started to pound inside her chest. "Who was it?"

"I didn't catch his name," Martin said, "but he seemed really worried about you. Looked like he was about to bite my head off when I didn't immediately tell him where you were. I ended up feeling so bad for him that I let him go up to your apartment."

"What did he look like?" Sonny asked. She almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Handsome," Martin said. "With blonde hair and blue eyes."

That was all Sonny had to hear. Sonny put both hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Martin was looking at her, concern written all over his face. He reached out to comfort her, but Sonny took a step back.

"Thank you, Martin," Sonny said, voice wavering. "That's all."

She ran for the elevator and slid inside. She immediately pressed the button for floor 5, leaning against the side of the elevator as the doors closed.

There was no question.

Chad was here, in London, and he was looking for her.

Sonny looked down at her stomach that protruded slightly. If he looked at her straight on, she could pass it off as just gaining a bit of extra weight, but if he saw her from the side... there would be denying it. She would have to tell him that she was pregnant.

The door of the elevator slid open on the fifth floor. Sonny took a deep breath and then stepped out of the elevator, a hand rubbing her stomach gently. She reached her door—third one on the left, emblazoned with the number 19—and hesitated.

_Suck it up, Munroe. You have to face him._

Sonny twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She didn't see Chad immediately, which further increased her nervousness. Sonny wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans—the only pair that still fit her—and walked into the apartment, shutting the door behind her quietly. She took a few steps into the small, cramped living room, trying not to make a sound.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to her bedroom door, standing ajar.

"Oh, this isn't good," Sonny whispered.

She walked over to the bedroom and peeked her head inside. Chad was standing in front of her bulletin board, where she had posted all of her ultrasound pictures. He didn't even turn around when Sonny walked inside and shut the door behind her with a gentle _snick._

"Chad," Sonny said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chad said without looking at her.

Sonny came up behind him. "Because I didn't want you to have to deal with this."

Chad whirled on her. "Damn it, Sonny, that was my choice!" Chad snapped. "You had no right to just leave, just uproot your life, and—and not even say a goodbye! Not even tell me that you were pregnant!" His eyes were hard as he took a step forward. "Sonny, do you know how _terrified _I was?"

"No, but—" Sonny's voice broke. "You—don't need to deal with any of this."

"But maybe I _want _to," Chad said. "Maybe I _want _to know my child!"

"You might want to," Sonny said, "but you have... so much more to offer. I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"So you'd rather be a single mother than be with me?" Chad said. "You don't even want us to try to make this work?" Chad took a step closer to her. "We both got ourselves into this situation. This isn't just your issue to deal with."

"But you can choose to walk away," Sonny whispered. "I wanted to give you that choice."

"I don't want that choice."

"But your fame—"

"—doesn't mean as much to me as you do," Chad said.

Sonny shook her head. She looked away from Chad and crossed her arms across her chest. Closing her eyes, she wished, more than anything, that this wasn't happening. That she would just wake up and she would be back in her bed in Hollywood, a text message from Chad on her phone. That she would go into work and everything would be fine.

But when she opened her eyes, there Chad was, still standing there.

"You don't mean that," Sonny murmured. "Fame means everything to you. Remember, Chad Dylan Cooper, the greatest actor of our generation?" She tried to smile, but it broke off. "You can't be happy here."

Chad came closer to her and took her hands in his own. He pulled her close to him, their eyes meeting. Sonny almost wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

"Let me decide that," Chad said. "Sonny, we're having a baby."

"Exactly." Sonny broke away from Chad's grip and took a step back. "Are you really willing to give everything up? Just for me?" She glanced down for a minute—_could she do this? Push him away again?—_and then continued. "Are you willing to leave all the fame? The girls? The special treatment?"

"The fame will still be there when—if—we return," Chad said. "And the only girl I care about is you, Sonny."

Sonny looked up. "Really?"

"Really," Chad said.

"But—"

"But nothing," Chad said. "We can find a way to make this work. I promise."

Chad didn't give Sonny a chance to respond. He just took Sonny in his arms and held her tightly, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. One of Chad's hands ran down her side and rested lightly on Sonny's gently protruding stomach.

"I hope you're right," Sonny whispered into Chad's shirt.

"I am right," Chad said.

If only Sonny could be so sure.

* * *

**August 20, 2010**

Sonny squeezed Chad's hand tightly. Chad returned the pressure equally as they both looked up to stare at the doctor.

"Is everything okay?" Sonny immediately asked.

Her doctor looked down. "I'm afraid we have some bad news," he said. "There's been a complication."

* * *

**December 6, 2010**

Beautiful.

That was the only word she could use to describe her daughter with her bright blue eyes and dark hair lying flat to her skull, covered by a pink hat. Beautiful was the only word she could use to describe her daughter—beautiful, beautiful, beautiful—as she looked down at her, a smile across her face.

Chad reaches across to gently touch her daughter's small hand.

"Would you like to hold her?" Sonny asked.

"Of course."

* * *

**February 10, 2011**

She thought it could work.

With Jackie, everything was easy. Perfect. Chad was the perfect father. He was kind and gentle. He wanted to take care of his daughter, and he did such a wonderful job of it.

But there was something missing.

She could see the emptiness in Chad's eyes as he looked down at the crib. The blue blanket was crumpled in a corner of the crib, away from the one they used to cover up Jackie for her nap, and Chad's eyes never left it. She noticed that he seemed to look into the distance more often. He wasn't as snarky or as playful as he used to be, but he tried. He tried because he knew that Sonny had a harder time of it than he did.

Motherhood was not easy. Especially not when she considered her doctor's words: _There's been a complication. We're not sure if things will work. Maybe they will, but—_

Sonny closed her eyes.

_Don't think about it, Sonny, don't think—_

Sonny stared up at the ceiling, pressing herself closer to Chad. Two months had passed since her daughter's birth. Some moments were easy, but others were hard. She couldn't count how many fights she had gotten into with Chad over the past month. She couldn't count how many tears had been shed, how many sleepless nights she had spent holding Jackie as she wailed.

_Nothing we could've done would have changed anything_, Chad said. _It's not your fault_, he whispered in her ear as they moved together. _We can do this. I love you._

_I love you._

Sonny wiped a tear from her eye.

That was exactly the problem. They couldn't do this.

She knew that Chad didn't want to deal with any of this. She knew that he needed to be free, and she was holding him back.

Sonny sat up in the bed, holding a sheet to her chest. The answer finally came to her, shooting across her brain in a second. Of course, why hadn't she come up with it sooner? It would hurt at the beginning—hurt like hell—but after a while...

It would get easier.

Sonny glanced at Chad.

_If you love something, set it free._

Those words rang through her mind as she slipped silently out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a gray T-shirt, and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from the bedside table. Her hand shook as she put pen to paper and started to write.

_Dear Chad_, she began, _my love..._

* * *

**November 3, 2026**

Sonny scanned the rows of clothes at Calvin Klein. She needed to find a perfect outfit to wear for the mother-daughter brunch at the school in a few weeks, something that would go with Jackie's outfit. She also needed to pick something up at Bergdorf's in preparation for her daughter's sweet sixteen party.

She had just decided to try on a printed blue and white dress that looked particularly suitable when she heard a voice call her name. She glanced around, saw no one, and returned to her shopping. She picked up the dress, only to squeak quite loudly when someone came up behind her and poked her on the shoulder. She whirled around about to complain, when she saw who it was.

"Brigette!" Sonny squealed. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Sonny wrapped Brigette Alto in a huge hug. Brigette returned the gesture and then broke away.

"Sonny!" Brigette said. "I could say the same for you! Gosh, you're just getting more and more beautiful and fashionable by the day."

"Thank you," Sonny said, smiling. "You too. Where have you been?"

"Milan," Brigette said. "Oh, it's beautiful there."

Sonny nodded. "I went there to shoot a movie," she responded. "It certainly is beautiful, although I never wanted to leave. What brings you back here?"

"Oh, Marlon just signed an important deal with a London company," Brigette said, perusing the racks of dresses behind Sonny. "A world-famous actor came to New York to sign the deal, can you believe that? Marlon and I certainly couldn't."

"Wow," Sonny said. "Who was he?"

Brigette smiled. "You'll never guess," she said. "Although I'd imagine you'd be itching for a chance to meet him again when I tell you."

"So I've met him before," Sonny said. She grinned. "Don't tease me, Brig. Who is he?"

"Chad Dylan Cooper," Brigette said.

"No," Sonny breathed.

Sonny's hands slackened on the dress she was holding. She only just barely managed to catch it in time.

"That was my reaction," Brigette said, not noticing the stricken expression on Sonny's face. "I was so shocked. I mean, he's been gone for sixteen years. What made him return now? And why did he leave in the first place?" She laughed. "Who knows? You were the closest one to him, and even you don't know why he left."

_But I do._

Sonny returned the dress to the rack. She put one hand on the rack, trying to regulate her fierce breathing, trying to stop the dizziness from getting even worse. Her heart pounded in her ears, her mind whirling with a thousand different thoughts.

_Chad Dylan Cooper is here. In New York. With me. And Jackie._

She had to get out of this store.

"I don't know," Sonny managed to reply with a rather fake laugh. She tried to come up with an excuse. "I'd love to talk more, Brigette, but I have to go. I have to—do something."

Brigette nodded. "All right."

Sonny didn't give Brigette a chance to say anything else. She nearly ran out of the store, digging in her purse for her cell phone. She finally found it, flipped through the contacts, and pressed the "send" button.

The phone only rang three times before someone answered.

"You've reached Isobel Montez, agent to Sonny Munroe and other Hollywood stars," Isobel's voice issued from the speakers. "I can't answer the phone right now, but if you tell me what you called for, I will respond as soon as I can."

_Beep._

"Hi, Izzie," Sonny said. "It's Sonny." She took a deep breath. "I was just wondering if that lead role was still open. If it is, I can be in Hollywood for an audition by Monday. Thank you so much, Isobel. Bye."

Sonny closed her phone and thrust her hand out to call a cab.

_I can't see Chad. I just can't._

Which meant she had to get out of New York. Now.

* * *

_There's no moving on.  
__So I'm already gone._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, so are you guys ready to kill me now? (ducks)

This is the longest chapter yet: a whooping 5,783 words. I hope you liked it. Please review?


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **I'm not even going to try and justify this long hiatus. I'll just say thanks to the following people: **iworshippiperpaigephoebe01 **(anon), **anniehmaggieh**, **koolg1rl**, **Squirrelflightlover**, **S24** (anon), **cookie monster **(anon), **me **(anon), **ParamoreWorshipper **(anon), **Sonny days**, **teakietower**, **have-a-cookie**, **FearIsTheHeartOfLove**, **Konnichiwa Minna**, **kaylinwriter14**, **MillyFleur14 **(anon), **Bloomerica**, **Maiqu**, **zanessarobsten4ever** (anon), **leoshunny1985**, **highfivingjesus**, **RitaMarie**, **Cause in the daylight-x**, **ashkat101 **(anon), **caseybug14**, **ReadingAllAlong **(anon), **duchessduchie**, **TeddyLuver**, **FanFicSam**, **lolz3** (anon), **Gabbie Wabbie**, **WillowHeidi Erickson**, and **animeaddict2323232**. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope people are still going to read this.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

_Jackie_

I let myself into the apartment late that afternoon, after Haylie and I had left the juice bar, went to the nearest pizzeria, and gorged ourselves on the thin crusted pepperoni pizza the place was famous for. Over dinner, we talked about everything: my father, my mother, my plans for the future. I had enjoyed the pizza while it lasted but now it felt sticky and thick inside my stomach like I just downed a whole bottle of maple syrup.

"Are you okay?" Haylie asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You look sick."

"I'm fine," I said.

_Pull yourself together._

"You don't seem fine," Haylie said. "Listen, why don't I stay here tonight? I'm sure that my mother wouldn't mind and neither will yours. I just... don't want to leave you alone."

I couldn't help smiling at Haylie. What had I ever done to deserve a friend as wonderful as she was? Even through all of my crap—and her own crap with the divorce and everything—she stood by me. I wasn't sure what I would do without her. Right now, I didn't feel like finding out.

"Okay," I said. "You are the best friend a girl can ask for."

Haylie grinned. "I know, no need to thank me."

"And you're so modest too," I teased. I dropped my bag on the bench right beside the door and stepped further into the apartment. "Let me just ask my mom if you can stay over." I raised my voice: "Mom, can Haylie stay over tonight?"

There was no answer.

That was explainable since the apartment was absolutely _huge. _If she was on the other side of the apartment, she'd never hear me calling her, and her bedroom was way over there, so... I didn't panic. I simply barreled up the stairs leading up to the second story of our apartment, running through the halls toward my mother's room. At any moment, I expected her to burst through a door, murmuring about "that herd of elephants I raised."

"Mom!" I called.

No response.

I neared her room. Maybe she was listening to music while she cleaned and that's why she didn't hear me. I stopped right outside her apartment.

"Mom," I said, knocking on the door. "Mom."

Silence.

Still. Maybe she was sleeping.

I turned the handle of the door and looked into my mother's room. Immediately things started to jump out at me: the open drawer, the closet door ajar, the mess of clothes on the floor. It looked nothing like my mom's normally neat and tidy bedroom. More than anything, it looked like she had left in a _hurry_, didn't even bother putting anything away, just grabbed what she needed and left.

"Jackie?" Haylie asked from behind her.

"What?" I turned around to face her and knew something was wrong, very wrong, just by the expression on her face. "Haylie, what's wrong?"

"I found this." She held up a piece of paper. "On the coffee table. Your mom wrote it."

The tightness in my chest was almost too much to handle. My hand started to shake as I reached out for the paper. I unfolded it once I had it in my grip. My mother's handwriting was different from the handwriting I saw in the diary: somehow smaller, cramped, tilted to the left. It somehow looked neater but at the same time, it seemed like her hand was shaking as she wrote it.

_My dear daughter_, I read.

_I'm sorry that I have to leave like this with no warning, but Isobel Montez, my agent, told me about this audition in Hollywood. It's for a role in a movie that she thinks will be perfect for me, so I couldn't just refuse her. Normally I know I would wait for you to get home from school in order to say goodbye, but Isobel wanted to run me through the role a few times before the audition on Monday, considering I hadn't heard of the role before she told me about it. So I have to leave as soon as possible._

_I'm so sorry, honey. I should be home in a couple days if I don't get the role. If I do get the role, I'm going straight off to filming, so I won't be around for a few weeks. I'll try to make it back for your birthday._

_Love you, hon._

_Mom._

The words made no sense. I read the letter over again, reading between the lines, and everything clicked into place.

"My mom is a coward," I breathed.

"Why?" Haylie asked, putting her arm around my shoulders. "What did the letter say? Where is your mother?"

"She's gone," I said. The paper crumpled in my hand as my fist closed around it. "She left." I met Haylie's eyes. "Apparently she had some sort of audition in Hollywood that she just had to go to. But honestly, how dumb does she think I am?"

"I'm confused," Haylie said. "What are you on about?"

"My _mother_!" I almost yelled and shook Haylie's arm away from my shoulders. "It's just _so _convenient, isn't it, that my mother leaves just as soon as Chad Dylan Cooper, my _father_, arrives. She hasn't had an audition for a movie in six months and now, suddenly, Isobel Montez _must _have her for a role she's never even heard of? It's pretty damn coincidental, if you ask me." I threw the letter across the hallway. "She's running away."

"But _why_?"

The question rang through my head even before Haylie said it out loud. Why was my mother running away? What the hell had Chad Dylan Cooper done in the past that was so terrible that she had to run away from him? Why did their relationship seem so screwed up?

None of those questions had answers.

I sighed. "I don't know, Haylie," I said. "I honestly don't know."

"Do you want to call her?" Haylie asked. "Ask her why she left?"

The thought was tempting. I felt like digging my cell phone out of my bag, still thrown on the bench downstairs, and calling my mother up, yelling at her, telling her to come back here, damn it, and tell her what the hell was going on, but—at the same time, I knew it wouldn't do any good. It would just force me to tell the truth about what I knew—the diary, Chad Dylan Cooper—and then I'd get nowhere.

No, it was better to just let her go.

"I can't," I said. "She's gone now and nothing I say will change her mind."

"Are you sure?" Haylie asked. "You could get your mother to come back and talk to John, get him to arrange a meeting with you and Chad. You could fix everything, get your mother and father back. We could trick them somehow, get them in the same place—"

"This isn't one of your romance novels, Haylie!" I burst out, unable to stop myself. Anxiety stretched my body taut. I couldn't help but glare at her, even though something deep in the back of my brain told me that _you're overreacting, stop it. _"Real life is messy and complicated and unfair. Things aren't solved just by tricks or getting them in the same damn place!"

"I know that—"

"No, you don't know that," I said. "You're _naïve_. My parents didn't just get a divorce, they tore away from each other so completely that they can't even be in the same city—even a city as big as New York. Either Chad screwed up or my mother screwed up. Either way, everything's so messed up that I have no clue how anything will ever be right again."

Haylie remained silent.

I sighed. "My mom's gone. She's in Hollywood and I won't see her until Chad's gone. I know it."

"Then what are you going to do?"

I ran a hand through my hair, sighed again—louder than before. "I'm not sure."

"If you're not going to bite my head off again, I have a suggestion," Haylie said.

"Yeah?"

"I think that we should talk to John Alto." Before I could protest—_what has she been smoking? I'm not going to John for anything_—she continued. "I know he's an absolute jerk and we shouldn't encourage him, but he knows about your father. He probably has contact with him." She tried to smile. "He's the only one who could possibly get us in touch with him."

That was a good point.

Marlon could tell me where my father was and get me a meeting, but he would tell his wife. In turn, Brigette, John's mother, wouldn't be able to resist: she'd call up my mother and tell her that I was going to meet him, and then my mother would be back in seconds. I'd never be able to meet him after that and he'd never even know a single thing about me.

But at the same time...

"What makes you think that John would set up a meeting between me and Chad?"

"Because he might not be as big of a jerk as you make him out to be," Haylie said.

"You consider him to be as much of a jerk as I do," I retorted, "and, besides, John has never done anything when something wasn't in it for him."

"But at the same time, you know that we can't go to his parents for help," she responded. "You know that his father never keeps anything from his wife, and his wife never keeps anything from your mother. So the only way to talk to your father is to go directly to someone who might help us and at the same time wouldn't tell a soul. The only person that fits the bill is John."

The idea of going to John Alto for help didn't appeal to me. In fact, I'd almost rather jump off a bridge than ask him for help.

But Haylie had a point.

I needed to meet my father. With each passing day, the need grew inside my chest, expanding it, making it impossible to deny, but I never thought I would have a chance to ever see him. As soon as I heard the news that he was in New York City, I _knew _that I had to hear his part of the story. The need rose up inside, smothering, and I could feel the resolve wavering.

"Fine."

Haylie smiled. "I know it'll be difficult for you," she said, "but it will be worth it."

"Sure." I sighed. "Can we at least relocate this discussion to the living room? I think I'm going to need to sit down for this."

* * *

_John_

"Excuse me."

I looked up from the book I was perusing—yes, I know, I actually do read—to find Chad Dylan Cooper standing in the threshold of the library. He didn't look hesitant, but he didn't enter the room either. I dog-eared the page and set _The Catcher in the Rye _aside.

"Yes?" I said. "What do you need?"

"Nothing," Chad responded. "I was just talking to your father about our business arrangement and he sent me here to get a book."

"Let me guess," I said. "_Business Deals for Dummies_?"

Chad let out a laugh. "Not quite."

He made his way into the shelves, searching for the book, and I watched him. He was in the wrong section, but I didn't bother correcting him. I remembered the way I met him for the first time and the way he reacted when he heard what school I attended. A smile spread across my face.

"So, how are you liking New York so far?" I asked.

"It hasn't changed much," Chad responded, shifting through the romance section of the library. "Still as polluted and cramped as usual."

"You've been here before?"

"Several times," Chad said. "When I was a teenager, I came here every summer. It was my favorite place to relax."

"Did you hear about Pendell's back then?" I asked, noticing how Chad stiffened behind the shelves at the mention of the school. "Obviously you didn't go there, but it must have caught your attention, right? You seemed to know about it the other day."

"I... heard about it, yes," Chad said.

"Sixteen years ago?"

"No," Chad said.

"Then where?"

Chad didn't respond. He continued looking through the shelves in silence. It stretched on for a few seconds. Suddenly I alighted on something from a couple days ago that I had heard: that girl with the inane _National Inquirer _obsession who said—

"Do you know Sonny Munroe?" I blurted out.

There was a _thump. _The book Chad had taken off the shelf had fallen to the ground.

"I did," Chad said. I could _hear _the tension in his voice, I _knew _that he didn't want to talk about this, but damn it, he was going to talk. I would get to the bottom of whatever the hell he was hiding.

"Really," I said. "Did you know that she has a daughter? Her name is Jaclyn Munroe and, let me tell you, there is not a finer piece of—"

"Don't talk about her like that."

Chad's voice was thick with tension, more than before.

It seemed like I had hit a nerve.

"Why not?" I asked. "I would think you'd think badly of her yourself, considering Sonny was supposedly with you at the time she got pregnant by another guy—"

"Leave her out of this," Chad said.

"Is that how you know about Pendell's?" I pressed on. "Because Jackie goes there." A thought suddenly occurred to me and I grinned. "That is probably why you're defensive about her, because she's _your _daughter, but Sonny Munroe kicked you out. Or—" and this was juicy stuff, positively riveting information; this was what I lived for—"she _left _you in London. It was fifteen years ago that Sonny returned from London, wasn't it?"

A muscle in Chad's jaw twitched. His voice shook as he spoke.

"Where's the business section in this library?"

That was all the answer I needed. I grinned, leaning back in my chair.

"Four aisles down, middle shelf."

Neither of us said anything else to each other. Chad went to the business section, got the book he needed, and left the library, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

His reaction shocked me, to be honest. I didn't expect that Chad would get so _defensive _when it came to Sonny and Jackie Munroe. Though I knew what my father and Brigette had said in that meeting, it wasn't much. I took a shot in the dark when it came to Sonny and Jackie, but it seemed to hit a nerve somewhere. As soon as I mentioned Sonny, he lost his cool and, judging from what I knew of Chad from that meeting, Chad _rarely _lost his calm facade.

Maybe I was right.

Chad and Sonny did have a relationship sixteen years ago and that resulted in Jackie, apparently. And then Sonny left Chad alone in London, coming back to New York with Jackie. It was a sore spot for Chad because he had been left behind and, let's face it, no one liked being left behind.

Huh. Sometimes I even impressed myself.

My phone ringing inserted itself into my thoughts and I sighed in frustration. I glanced at the Caller ID.

**JACKIE MUNROE Calling.**

"Changed your mind about me, Jackie?" I drawled into the phone.

"Don't push it," she said. "I'm only calling because Haylie is practically forcing me to."

"Remind me to give her flowers tomorrow," I responded. I rested my feet on the coffee table in front of me. "So what do I owe to the pleasure of this phone call?"

"Well, I... um."

"Yes?"

"I, um, sort of need—"

"Go on, just say it," I said. "I won't judge, I promise."

"Ow!" Jackie shrieked. "Cut it out, Haylie!" She sighed, turning the line into static. "All right, all right." Another sigh. "John, I need a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

"Not like _that_," Jackie said, clearly hearing the innuendo in my tone. "I just... need you to introduce me to someone."

Considering the conversation I just had with Chad Dylan Cooper just a few minutes ago, my curiosity was immediately piqued. The coincidences were too much: Chad arriving, Haylie's erratic behavior that day when I was bragging (that suddenly made sense too, I realized), Chad's reaction to Jackie and Sonny, and now, Jackie's call.

How interesting. Everything was now converging on me.

"And who is this person?"

"I'd prefer it if we didn't discuss it over the phone," Jackie said, oddly professional. "Can we meet somewhere private?"

"The back of my limo is private."

"Please stop yourself from being disgusting for just one moment," Jackie said. "This is serious and it means a lot to me. We'll discuss whatever torturous thing you want me to do for you in exchange for this favor later, but for now, let's meet at the coffee shop just around the corner from Pendell's after school tomorrow."

"I suppose I could go for that," I said.

"Good," Jackie said. "See you then."

She didn't even wait for me to say anything else before there was a click and the line went dead.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I know this chapter might not very long (or very good), but it's been so long since I updated that I didn't want to keep it any longer. I am _so sorry _it's taken me so long to update. One thing just led to another and I just lost my inspiration and it took me ages to get it back. Since it's summer, I hope to be able to update more often. I might even try to wrap up this story before school starts, but don't quote me on this, 'cause there's so much left to read and discover.

Anyway, please review?


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **I am not even going to justify this long hiatus, because I truly have no excuse. I just have had little inspiration lately, which is no excuse to stop writing this story, but I love this tale and I am not going to abandon it. Needless to say, I am thankful for everyone who reviewed, but in interests of not postponing the story any longer than necessary, I will just say a HUGE thank you goes out to those people who reviewed, even though I am not going to take writing time away in order to thank you all individually. That should hopefully be reinstated next chapter. But without any further ado...

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Chapter 12

_Jackie_

I knew that I shouldn't have bothered speaking to John. He would insert innuendo into every word that I spoke and who knew what heinous thing he would force me to do in exchange for the favor he'd be paying me? I didn't want to find out, but I had no choice. We had made a deal and if I ever wanted to see my father, I'd just have to deal with the consequences.

I couldn't help letting out a huge sigh as I threw my cell phone across the room, only hearing and not seeing it land on the chair on the other side of the coffee table.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I moaned.

"Jackie, you know it's the right decision," Haylie said. "You need to know about your father and John is the only person who can help you."

"But who knows what he will make me do in exchange for that help?" I said. "He might make me pretend to be his girlfriend or have sex with him or something terrible like that. I have no clue what goes on in his head."

"He agreed to help you. That's the most important thing."

"Really?" I said. "Because I think that not giving up every single moral I possess is more important than him agreeing to meet with me."

Haylie sighed. "Have you considered just telling him the truth?"

"And have him tell everyone? No thanks."

I leaned my head against the back of the couch, wishing I could just drown out Haylie's optimism: she said that maybe he wouldn't tell anyone. Maybe he would be able to keep his mouth shut, you shouldn't judge people when you don't even really know what they've gone through, yadda, yadda, yadda.

It was almost too much. I couldn't handle it.

"Listen, Haylie," I said. "If I want to tell him, I will. You can't force me to." I lifted my head off the top of the couch and stared at her. "I don't think that he will understand. I don't want to risk it until I know I can trust him. Is that so bad?"

"I guess not," Haylie admitted. "I don't agree, but—I guess, in the end, you're doing exactly what I would do."

I nodded. "All right. So that's settled."

"What now?"

That was the question I was about to ask, but to be perfectly honest, I had no clue. Even though I was closer to meeting my father than I had ever been, I was no closer to figuring out what happened years ago. If I couldn't meet my father... I'd be right back at square one and not even my mother would be around to question anymore.

My father was in town. He was in New York City, only a few blocks away, most likely, and I couldn't see him.

He probably didn't even know I was here.

"We need to do something," I said. "I just... I don't know what. Maybe all we can do is wait to talk to John."

"I know you said that you didn't want to read any more of the journal with me, that you thought you should be alone for it, but..." Haylie hesitated. "I think it might be good. To know as much as we can before possibly meeting Chad."

I saw Haylie's point. In order to truly make the most out of my conversation with John, I needed to know as much as possible. To do that... I had to read the journal. Even though I didn't want to. Even though it almost felt like a betrayal to read it with someone else that was uninvolved in all the conflict.

"Okay," I said. "It's in my bag. Can you go get it?"

Haylie nodded and stood up, exiting the room in favor of the hall. I leaned my head against the back of the couch once more, closing my eyes. I wondered what my father looked like now. What had he been doing for the past sixteen years? Did he even know that I was in this city? Did he know where my mom was? And if he did... then would he seek me out? Would he search for me?

If he didn't, I would search for _him. _I needed to know him, now that he was so close. I just needed something from him.

"Here you go," Haylie said, returning from the hall and throwing the bag on the couch.

I dug inside the bag and pulled out the journal, running my fingers along its surface for a minute. What secrets were still in here?

"Before we start, we should get some snacks," I said.

Haylie immediately agreed—even though we had demolished a whole pizza between the two of us, it didn't hurt to have some junk food to munch on—and so I soon found myself digging in the refrigerator, taking out two cans of soda, a bunch of strawberries, and a container of whipped cream. When I finally stood up, I found Haylie surrounded by a mass of junk food: vacuum-sealed packs of beef jerky, a bag of barbeque chips, a container of cookies, and a veritable vat of chocolate.

"Chocolate makes everything better," Haylie said. "It's proven by science and Harry Potter alike."

I couldn't help laughing. "You're so strange, Haylie," I said, reaching over the expansive counter to shove her lightly. "Let's try to get this all into the living room."

It took two trips to finally get everything from the kitchen to the living room and another trip to make hot chocolate with marshmallows, but finally, I was curled up on one side of the couch, staring at Haylie on the opposite side, the journal in my lap. The hot chocolate warmed my hands and I couldn't help remembering the last time I had sat in this living room, drinking hot chocolate, when my mother was still here, a few hours from when I had first opened the box that would forever change my life. A twinge of pain swirled through my chest, but I ignored it. I had to if I was ever going to make any progress.

"Okay," I said. "So... I didn't actually get that far into the journal. I only got to the end of February 2010."

"Wow, what have you been doing with your time, Jackie? Twiddling your thumbs?"

I almost wanted to respond that this wasn't like going through my mother's old high school yearbook and making fun of all of the fashions, this was me discovering what my past was, what my father was like, and I wouldn't rush through it, but Haylie laughed. She put her hand over mine and smiled.

"Don't worry, I was joking."

I grinned back. "I knew that."

"So let's start from where you left off," Haylie said.

I nodded and turned to the entry at the very beginning of March. I decided to read the first couple of entries out loud, savoring the way my mother's words sounded on my tongue. She really was the typical teenager, irregardless of her job. She worried about her friends, her family, her job, but she had fun simultaneously. Much of her fun came from the time she spent with Chad, strangely enough.

The first important moment between my mother and father recorded in the diary was at Chad's birthday, when Sonny broke in to make things right with her best friend. Then came Sonny's first interview with Tween Weekly, which further solidified my mother's opinion that Chad wasn't as bad as he looked. He might even have started to like her, if their conversation was any indication.

And then... that "fake" date.

"They never really hated each other," Haylie remarked when I finished reading the entire entry, lingering over the description engrained in my brain: their first "date," even though it might have been fake. The way they seemed so happy together, even though they never would have admitted it. "They always liked each other."

"Of course they did," I whispered.

Haylie glanced at me and wordlessly took the journal from me. Good thing she did too, because I didn't think I could handle it. She read for a good hour, telling me about the incident with Dakota Condor, my parent's first dance together, their sojourn up to Lookout Mountain (their first one) and everything else. She told me everything.

My parents truly had the fairytale story. It was something one would expect from Hollywood: a silly romantic comedy that ended up with a happy ending, if their first date was any indicator. But I was the result of the aftermath. Once they got together, credits rolled and "they lived happily ever after" scrolled across the screen, but little did they know... little did anyone know that happily ever after was a myth.

Nothing but a myth.

My parents separated and their story was no longer that perfect fairytale.

But why did they separate? That was still a mystery and, as Haylie continued to read, my brain worked a thousand miles a minute.

More than anything, I wanted a clue as to why they separated. I knew how they got together. I knew that they had true feelings for each other, that they weren't just using each other for fame or something equally heinous. But why had they broken up? They seemed so happy in all of the journal entries I read.

There had to be something. The desire to know coursed through my veins, sent my heart racing inside my chest.

And I realized it all of a sudden.

I couldn't wait. I had waited long enough and clearly reading through the journal slowly wouldn't work. I didn't want to flip through it because I felt like it was an insult to Chad and Sonny's relationship, but... if my mother running away from New York City just because my father was here wasn't an insult to their relationship, if the dissolution of their relationship itself wasn't an insult to their very memory, then I wasn't sure what was.

"Here," I said. "Let me take that from you."

Haylie nodded and handed me back the journal. I flipped through it quickly, not even caring that I might be ripping the pages.

"What are you doing, Jackie?" Haylie asked. "I thought that you wanted to go from the beginning?"

I looked up for a minute, slowing my progress through the journal. She deserved an explanation, even though curiosity surged through my chest, almost overpowering in its intensity, and I just wanted to ignore her and _know._

"I know," I said. "I know that I said that, but... I just can't wait. I know what my parents were like back then. They were in love. I want to know what changed. _Why _everything changed. And I can't wait hours. I need to know now."

To my shock and horror, I felt tears pricking at my eyes, but I blinked them back. "You understand, right, Haylie?"

"Of course I do," Haylie said. "Go ahead."

I smiled and continued my frenzied page-turning. Finally, I reached a date several weeks after my birth where my mother's handwriting was shaking. Wrinkles were present on the paper, almost as though she had been crying while she was writing. I ran my fingers along those wrinkles and began to read out loud.

_Dear Diary,_

_I don't know what to do. I honestly don't. I am lost at sea without a paddle or even a life raft. I don't even have a life jacket at this point. I'm just floundering, trying to stay afloat through pure willpower, but I can't do it. Every time I think that I break the surface, fighting for survival, I get pulled back under._

_Chad is trying. I know he is, but there's only so much that he can do. He wasn't the one who was there from day 1, feeling this... life inside me, not knowing what was going to happen. He didn't feel Jackie first kick. This isn't fair to him, I know it's not, because he did give up absolutely everything to be with me, but... I've done so much. I gave up my entire dream, felt my child in my stomach every day, not been able to sleep..._

_And now... everything's falling apart._

_My money is frozen until I turn 18. My mother can access some money for me, so she's been sending me money, but there's only so much that my mother can take out of my account. Chad's parents froze his account entirely, withdrew his trust fund, so now he has nothing. He's trying to work and we're surviving on the little amount of money he managed to bring with him, but..._

_We're not working._

_Nothing's working._

_If this is what post-partum depression feels like, then I wonder how any mother gets through it. I feel like crying all the time. I have no idea what to do. Ever. And Chad is trying. Of course he's trying. He's trying harder than I expected, actually, but there's only so much that he can do. Only so much I can do._

_When it comes to our relationship, it's like nothing I do is ever right. Even if it's just over getting diapers for Jackie, we end up devolving into an argument that makes us both retreat into the silent treatment for hours. Chad retreats into the bathroom—of all places—to watch old episodes of Mackenzie Falls on his laptop, and I stay in the nursery with the baby, trying to calm her down. She knows something's wrong: she cries all the time. She's never silent unless she's sleeping, and even then, she wakes up every two hours, without fail, and I don't think I've had more than one hour of consecutive sleep since I had her._

_Something has to change—or else I don't know how Chad and I will work. We're both stretched endlessly thin and it's not going to work. Some of our stress has to give or we need to find a better way of handling our stress somehow._

_Because I love Chad, but how can I be with him if I'm constantly... constantly..._

Here, the words became blurred—a mixture of my own tears obscuring my vision and my mother's own tears staining the page.

"I—I guess I have my answer," I whispered.

"Jackie," Haylie said. "I—"

"I was the problem," I said. My throat burned. My heart pounded inside my chest and felt like it was going to tear in half—or worse, break into endlessly tiny pieces. "I was the reason why my parents broke up."

"You don't know that," Haylie said.

"But I do," I said. "I can prove it. Everything I need is in here, I bet."

"Not everything," Haylie suddenly said as I began flipping through the pages quickly. "Stop for a second."

I stopped flipping through the pages. "What?"

"Look down."

I did so, not noticing what Haylie was getting at for a moment, but then everything immediately jumped out at me: the dark scratches that went through some words and sentences and even paragraphs, rendering them utterly unreadable. The ink ran in some places, making everything illegible. It looked as though my mother had used the book not as a journal, but rather as a handkerchief to wipe her tears.

"Your mother was clearly going through a lot," Haylie said.

"That's an understatement of the year," I muttered. "But I—I can't shake my feeling. That it's all my fault. If I hadn't come along..."

"Your parents might've broken up anyway. You don't know what might have happened."

Haylie did have a point. If I hadn't come along, I don't know what might have happened to my mother and father. For all I knew, they could have been running into rough patches in that gray area I hadn't read about and they could have escalated even if Sonny hadn't gotten pregnant. They could have broken up down the road.

I had no way of knowing.

"Look, that's true," I said. "But I know what _did _happen. I've watched those shows on MTV, I know the strain a baby puts on a relationship—especially on a teenage relationship. With my parents... it was clearly too much for them. I was a contributing factor in their separation."

"Maybe, but—" Haylie stopped and visibly tried to gather her thoughts. "But we still don't know the whole story."

That was a statement that I could definitely agree with. It was clear that there was more under the surface of my mother's writing: it was predominantly emotionally driven. No true facts were ever revealed in that January entry I read, except their financial situation. In order to truly know what happened nearly sixteen years ago, I would need to get either my mother or father to crack.

And considering only one was in the country...

"We need Chad," I said.

"We better hope that John is willing to help us," Haylie said.

I felt tears still forming behind my eyes. I tried to blink them back, but one escaped anyway. More than anything... I needed to know the whole story. Because of me, it seemed, my mother had suffered. She felt like she was drowning because of me. She left my father because of me—or maybe my father left her, that was still fuzzy. I had no clue what happened and I needed to know.

If I didn't know—

And here came the tears.

"I think I need a hug," I choked out.

No more words were needed. Haylie simply wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me close to her. I abandoned the journal and let myself just let go—and cry.

I had never needed my father more.

* * *

"Are you ready for this?"

I smoothed back my hair from my face, tugging on an errant curl. School had just let out ten minutes ago and Haylie and I were on our way to the coffee shop around the corner. John had apparently skipped school today—he wasn't in Geometry or lording around the school during the lunch hour—but I hoped that he was still going to meet me. If he didn't, I'd have to wait another day, and to be honest, I might combust if I needed to wait any longer than I already had.

"I have to be," I finally answered Haylie.

"Ready for what?"

I just barely managed to stifle a groan.

It was Lilian.

It wasn't that I didn't think I could trust Lilian. It was just that I preferred talking to her about events less consequential than my first meeting with my father—or, for that matter, my first meeting with John Alto to _talk _about my first meeting with my father. I could trust Lilian with gossip, but with a secret this huge... it would be out in the open by tomorrow morning, no matter how hard Lilian tried to keep it quiet.

I tried to come up with an excuse on the spot—homework? Something?—but nothing came to mind.

"Um... ready to go exploring some thrift stores down in Brooklyn," Haylie said, coming to my rescue.

And I honestly felt like kissing Haylie right then and there.

_Perfect _excuse—and I mean perfect. Lilian might love going shopping, but if there was one place that she avoided like the plague, it was Brooklyn. Even after knowing her for years, I still wasn't sure why the very name struck her with pure terror, but right about now, I was mentally thanking the gods (if any were up there).

"Do you want to come with us?" Haylie offered, nudging me sharply in the ribs to keep me from bursting into laughter.

The look on Lilian's _face_!

"Um." Lilian glanced from side to side, almost as if she expected to find herself in Brooklyn at any moment. "Um, no, thanks. I'll pass." She tried to steer the conversation away from Brooklyn and shopping: the two things were mutually incompatible in her eyes. "So... when are we having your party? It's November!"

"In December, of course," I said. "The 6th."

"Okay," Lilian said. "It better be awesome. You're turning sixteen!"

"It will be," I promised.

"Great," Lilian said. "Anyway, I'd better get going. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course," I said.

"Bye!"

And there were no more words exchanged as Lilian turned and walked away, hailing a taxi with her taxi whistle (apparently she'd gotten it from one of her boyfriends a couple of months ago). Haylie and I tried to stifle our giggles until we were out of hearing from Lilian, but we didn't quite manage it. We ducked behind a trash can so that Lilian wouldn't know it was us if she turned around.

"Did—you—see—her—face?" I breathed.

"Priceless!" Haylie said.

Our interaction with Lilian turned out to be a great distraction for the conversation ahead of me. I found that we were in front of the tiny cafe—_Cafe au Lait—_before I knew it, standing in front of the closed door.

"Am I coming in with you?" Haylie asked.

"I think so," Jackie responded. "I don't think that I can do this by myself. Besides, you've been here for the entire thing. I'm not going to kick you out now when we're finally making some progress."

"Good. Because if you didn't agree, I would have to force myself in anyway."

I laughed. "Yet another reason why you're coming with me."

I stared at the door for another second—here goes—and then grabbed Haylie's hand and pushed my way into the coffee shop. It was quiet and dark inside the shop, smelling of coffee beans and chocolate, along with some sort of pastry that was probably delectable. All of the tables were circular, seating about four people, and were spread out haphazardly throughout the darkened shop. A door at the very back led to the conjoined bookshop that I had spent many hours in when I was younger. I inhaled deeply, let out a breath, and I immediately felt calmer. Something about coffee shops did that to me.

"Come on," I said. "Let's find John."

I led Haylie deeper into the maze of tables, making a beeline to the back of the room. Sure enough, John was sitting in the table nearest the back of the room, so close to the wall that he could lean his head against it, with his feet lazily perched on the top of the table. I pushed them off before sitting down next to Haylie.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey," John drawled. "What's up, gorgeous?"

I rolled my eyes. "This little arrangement is only going to work if you're not a complete pig, John."

"I guess this arrangement isn't going to work then," John said easily. He glanced in Haylie's direction. "What's she doing here? I don't object, but I was under the impression that it would just be me and you. Alone."

"Sorry to disappoint," I said. "I decided to bring backup."

"You need backup. Interesting." He tilted his chair up on its back legs. "So what's going on? Why'd you ask me here?"

"I told you last night," I snapped. "I need to meet someone."

"Better talk nicer to me if you want anything from me."

Oh, _honestly. _I hadn't even been talking to John for a full five minutes yet and he already made me want to throw my hands up in the air and scream. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, let the breath out, and opened my eyes once again.

"Okay," I said. "All right. I'll be nice if you will. Deal?"

"Sure."

John extended his hand across the table. I gave him a look (_seriously, John? Seriously? A handshake?_), but he just kept it there, raising his eyebrows (_seriously. Shake it or no deal_). I let out a heavy sigh (_fine_) and reached across, grasping John's hand, warm and dry and almost comforting, if I forgot who John was and what he would probably make me do in exchange for this favor. I shook his hand briefly and then took my hand away as quickly as John would let me.

"I need you to introduce me to someone," I said, wasting no time.

"And will you tell me who this person is?"

"Chad Dylan Cooper," I said.

John blinked. "Chad Dylan Cooper? Why do you need to meet him?"

That was the question I was afraid he was going to ask. I figured he would, but still. I didn't have a good reason other than the truth—which was something I was hesitant to share with him.

"I just need to meet him," I said. "I told you that if you did this for me, I'd do whatever you wanted in return. Are you going back on your word now?"

"Of course not," John said. "I never refuse a lady."

"That's definitely true," I muttered. "Unfortunately."

John carried on without seeming to hear my remark. "But I can't just let you meet Chad Dylan Cooper. My father wouldn't approve if he ever found out and sadly, the one thing he never lets me get away with is ruining a business offer. So I have to receive a good reason to go back on my father's wishes."

I rolled my eyes.

What. An. Ass.

"Fine," I said. "But if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone, all right?"

"Sure," John responded. "Should we pinky promise?"

"Shut up." Haylie spoke up for the first time, her voice harsh and cold. "Jackie's not kidding. You can't tell anyone what she's about to say. This is so important and if you screw it up, I swear to God that I will do whatever I can do to ruin your life."

"Go ahead and try," John said.

"Just leave it," I said to Haylie. "He's obviously not going to stop being an ass."

"Too true."

I sighed, took a deep breath, and let it out. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately: something about being with John just made me feel the need to calm myself down before doing something that I might regret.

"So what is this huge secret?" he asked.

"Chad Dylan Cooper... he's—" I paused. "He's my father."

Contrary to my expectations, John didn't seem shocked in the slightest. He just nodded, surveying me for a couple of minutes. I shifted in my seat, increasingly uncomfortable, as his eyes bored into my own.

"Why now?" he asked. "Why do you want to meet him now?"

"Because I know he's here. In New York. Working for your dad," I said. At least I wasn't telling him the whole truth: just bits and pieces of the story. I figured I could trust him with the minimum details, even though I wouldn't tell him anything more than I had. "I just discovered who my father was a few weeks ago and I—I want to know why my parents separated. Is that too much to ask?"

"Possibly," John said. "I'll try to arrange something."

Haylie and I exchanged a look. Neither of us expected that John would agree so easily, which meant that he had something under his sleeve. Something that I would not as readily agree to.

"What's the catch?" I said. Better to get it over with than to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"Come to my party this Friday," John said.

"That's it?"

"And pretend to be my date."

I didn't even hesitate in nodding my head. Even though the absolute last thing I wanted to do was go on a date with John Alto, it was better than what I had been imagining. And if it meant that I would meet my father... I would do anything.

"Good," John said. "My mother and father will be there—it's one of those fancy parties that I must go to in order to present a good face—but there will be an awesome after party." He smiled. "I'll try to get you in to meet your father during the party."

"It will be that easy?" Haylie asked. "She just has to go on a date with you and you'll introduce her to her father?"

"Sure," John said. Once again, Haylie and I exchanged looks. "For now."

Of course. And here came the other shoe.

"I will let you meet your father for a date," he said, "but it doesn't seem like an equal trade. So be prepared to be called upon for any of the particular sophisticated functions that I get roped into attending." He grinned. "Better get stocked up on fancy dresses."

"So I'll be your date... indefinitely?"

"Yep."

_Shit._

I should have figured that his part of the deal would be something like that. It wasn't as bad as I figured, but I couldn't exactly say that I was looking forward to being paraded around on John's arms like some sort of trophy wife. At least he didn't make me his girlfriend—that was the only bright spot. That, and the fact that doing this would allow me to meet my father.

"All right. You've got yourself a deal," I said.

Once again, we shook on it, but John didn't let my hand go so easily. His hand lingered over mine for a few seconds. I felt strangely warm for a couple of seconds, but then I shook myself out of it and withdrew my hand.

I tried to smile.

"So what color is your tie?"

John smiled and went into a spiel about the details of the night: where it would be, what I was expected to wear, what he was wearing, all of those monotonous details that I needed to know but didn't really care about. I felt my phone vibrate inside my pocket and pulled it out, glancing at Haylie as I did so.

**Are you sure about this?**

I inclined my head. **It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Besides, I'd do anything if it meant I could meet my dad. Anything.**

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, there you are. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review?


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